


I need your heart

by sdwolfpup



Series: Take Whatever You Have To Take (You Know I Love You) [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bachelorette Party, Comfort Food, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, First Time, Massage, Minor Renly Baratheon/Loras Tyrell, Minor Tyrion Lannister/Tysha, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Schmoop, Single POV, Strap-Ons, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning, a lot of the sex is in margaery's head, a smidge of angst, a wild podrick appears, all the stark kids show up too in a brief appearance, also non schmoop for margaery and cersei, but there will be actual sex too, jon snow does too, ladies being friends, oh shit here we go again, people getting drunk, the schmoop is mostly for jaime and brienne, this series demands it, unexpected kid fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-07-10 03:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/pseuds/sdwolfpup
Summary: This was all Brienne's fault.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The 'kinky threesomes-turned-fluffy-ship fic' sequel I have been threatening is here. Is it going to be Margaery/Cersei first time while also fitting in tooth-rottingly sweet Jaime/Brienne getting married stuff? Yes. Am I embarrassed? No, clearly not. The id wants what it wants, people. I hope yours enjoys it, too. 
> 
> I'm working on this in-between two other (long) J/B fics so I'm not sure of the posting schedule but this should be pretty simple and relatively short so I expect it will be AT LEAST once a week a posting if not more. We'll see how it plays out over the next couple of chapters. You don't have to have read the prior fic to understand this one, I think. Title for this also from The Kooks' "Sway."

This was all Brienne's fault. 

If Brienne hadn't attracted the sexual attention of the Lannister twins, if she hadn't gotten Jaime Lannister to be so completely besotted with her that they'd had sex, fallen in love, and gotten engaged in the span of not even nine months, if the pair hadn't decided they could barely wait to get married and had set the date for three months later, Margaery would not be sitting here now next to Jaime's twin, Cersei Lannister, and wondering what she looked like in a strap-on while Brienne tried on wedding dresses. 

Margaery brought her phone out and pretended to scroll through it while stealing another glance at Cersei sitting next to her, back straight, rifling through one of the hundred wedding magazines on the table in front of them. She was wearing tailored black slacks and a white blouse with bold, deep green designs, her golden hair braided neatly. Her lips, soft and inviting even as tight as they were pulled back in annoyance, were slick with a matching deep green lipstick that complemented her sharp eyes. 

She would look hot as fuck, Margaery decided, and sighed. Cersei looked over at her. 

“Bored?” she asked in that smooth red wine voice. 

“You'd think they would have something more appropriate for the bridesmaids than wedding magazines. Don't they know we're sick of all this by now?”

Cersei lifted an eyebrow elegantly, set her magazine down elegantly, tilted her head elegantly. Margaery wondered if she'd ever done anything awkwardly a day in her life. “Isn't the maid of honor supposed to be supportive?”

“I am very supportive,” Margaery protested. “But that doesn't mean my life ends at my best friend's wedding.” 

“It does get tedious to hear Jaime go on about it,” Cersei conceded. Her phone lit up and she looked to see who it was. “I have to get this,” she said, hurrying outside to take the call. Margaery watched her go, admiring the way her pants curved around her rounded ass, and sighed again. 

Brienne, being Brienne, had asked Margaery to be her Maid of Honor and then also asked if Cersei could accompany them on some of the wedding activities so she wouldn't feel left out what with her recent divorce. Margaery wondered idly if she and Jaime ever asked Cersei to join them in the sex room at the club anymore, too, to fuck away that loneliness, and then she frowned, hoping surprisingly fiercely that they didn't. Surely they didn't. Margaery glanced towards the hallway where Brienne was being tucked into a new gown to try. Brienne had been very firm that whatever was between her and Cersei was over and the fact Cersei _had_ one time fucked her with a strap-on, not to mention all of the other things they'd done together, were just going to be history they would laugh about at future family dinners. 

“Almost ready!” Missandei Naath called out to the waiting room in her lilting voice and Margaery focused again on the task at hand. Brienne and Jaime had insisted on a summer wedding and although Margaery had assured her summer came every year, they couldn't wait until next summer. Margaery didn't blame them, though. She'd never met a couple more clearly made for each other than those two excessively tall people. If they had enough children they'd have the most gorgeous basketball team in Westeros. So Margaery had called in a favor with Missy, one of the most sought after gown designers anywhere, to drop everything and help Brienne on her very tight schedule. Missy had been thrilled to do it, had circled Brienne like a hungry vulture when she saw how tall she was, how uniquely broad and pale. That had been a month ago and today she had a few things for Brienne to try before the final dress was selected. They'd already been through two other dresses, neither right at all, which had not seemed to phase Missandei in the slightest. She'd looked almost victorious when Brienne didn't like either one, and Margaery wondered if she were like a realtor, prepping people with bad dresses so in the end they'd pick the most expensive one she wanted them to have. 

Missandei emerged from the hallway and took the seat Cersei had vacated. “I think this might be the one,” she said knowingly. 

“I can't wait,” Margaery said, doing her best to sound like she believed it. 

“Brienne,” Missandei said, “please come out.” 

The swishing sound of the fabric preceded Brienne, then the first hints of the skirt. When Brienne fully appeared holding the skirt up to walk from the short hallway to the dressing area, her head ducked shyly, Margaery gasped. 

“You look like a princess,” she breathed, clasping her hands together in front of her face. 

Brienne flushed, the red moving down her long neck and pale chest to disappear into the dress. “I think I like this one,” she said, stepping onto the low dais in front of a series of mirrors. The top was made of a sheer, see-through material with intricately beaded designs over the breasts and stomach that covered anything unseemly and curved around her waist to the back. When Brienne turned to look at herself in the mirror, Margaery saw beautiful glinting straps across her strong back. The skirt exploded from the waist in a layered waterfall of ivory tulle, a rush of fabric that would have been too much on someone Margaery's size but was perfect for Brienne. 

“This is definitely the dress,” Margaery said, blinking back happy tears. “Jaime is going to lose his shit.” 

“You think?” Brienne met her eyes in the mirror, looking hopeful. 

“It is known,” Missandei said, grinning. Then she clapped her hands and strode to Brienne, tucking, plucking, and considering. “We'll need to adjust here and here,” she said, clipped and intense as a drill seargeant as she noted alterations for the dress, “support those small breasts and add some color, you're much too pale for even ivory.” Missandei stepped back and looked up at Brienne. “Blue for certain, to bring out your eyes. Have you picked the color scheme for your wedding?”

“Uh,” Brienne said, glancing at Margaery. 

“No, but since the Lannisters are footing most of the bill, assume lots of red and gold.” 

“Blue will do, then.” Missandei walked around Brienne, her eyes thoughtful. “You're lucky this doesn't need much work, it's a busy season. I'll be able to get it done in time.”

“You're saving us,” Margaery said, grateful. The door chimed as Cersei re-entered and when Margaery turned to look at her, she saw the normally stoic woman's face go through a hundred emotions before she recovered, only longing lingering like a shadow in her eyes. 

“You look lovely,” Cersei said, not even her voice betraying her. 

“How much is it?” Brienne asked and Margaery whipped her head around. 

“Do not tell her that!” She stood and pointed an accusatory finger at Brienne. “I told you it was a gift from the Tyrells. It doesn't matter what it costs, we'll cover it.” Brienne ducked her head again but she smiled happily. 

“Thank you. I love it.”

“You'll love it even more when I'm done with it,” Missandei promised. “Now just let me take some last measurements and make some notes and you can all be on your way.” 

When Missandei and Brienne had disappeared back to the dressing area, Margaery tried to nonchalantly smile at Cersei. “Everything all right?”

Cersei blinked down at her as slow and confused as a sleepy cat. “Pardon?”

“The phone call. Everything all right?”

“Yes.”

“Cool,” Margaery managed, not sure what to say. She had never felt more uneasy with another human being than Cersei Lannister, and she wasn't sure if it was because Margaery was so attracted to her or if it was because Cersei seemed so utterly uninterested in Margaery herself. Margaery knew Cersei liked women, or at least had liked Brienne, and was certain that she herself was attractive and flirty and fun to be with, as many men and women had assured her over the years. Was she just not tall enough for Cersei? Or was it the flirtiness that made her look at Margaery like Margaery wasn't to be taken seriously? 

“How's it going with the shared custody?” 

Cersei frowned down at her and Margaery considered just running for the back room but held her ground against those deep green lion eyes, lifting her chin. 

“It seems to be fine so far. It's only been a month.” 

“This is your two weeks off, right?”

“Yes.” 

“Got any big plans?”

Cersei's frown deepened and Margaery inwardly winced. _Smooth, Marge,_ she berated herself. “Besides this,” Cersei said, “I do not.” 

“Would you like to get dinner some night?” Margaery's mouth asked before her brain could stop it. “I mean just as friends. Something lowkey. So you're not alone every night. Not that it's bad to be alone, of course, I'm alone most nights, too.” _Oh my gods, shut up_ , she pleaded with her runaway mouth. 

Cersei's was inscrutable against Margaery's rambling but she eventually lifted her shoulders in a predictably elegant shrug. “Fine,” she said, like it was she doing Margaery the favor. “You can text me and we'll work it out.”

“Great.” Margaery sighed and looked at the smiling brides on the cover of the magazines strewn on the table in front of them. “Great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the inspiration for Brienne's dress: https://www.theknot.com/fashion/3708-lazaro-wedding-dress


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh I hope you all like wedding planning in fic.

Margaery waited three days to text Cersei, disappointed in her own absurdity at the dress shop. She was a professional at flirting, at luring someone close with coy smiles and dark eyes. So why the fuck was she so off-balance around Cersei? She blamed it on the dreamy wedding atmosphere of the bridal shop, or the emotion of seeing Brienne in her perfect dress, or even the heightened knowledge of everything Brienne had told her about the Lannisters over the weeks they had met at the club. Maybe Margaery just really needed to get laid; it'd been at least six months since she'd felt any interest in playing the ever-more-repetitive field. Especially now that Brienne was always with Jaime, going out just wasn't as fun. Whatever it was, Margaery vowed not to be so over-eager again. So she waited until Tuesday and then decided to wait another day longer before texting Cersei. 

'Hey, this is M. Did you want to have dinner on Friday? Only night I'm free.'

That was a straight-up lie, but Margaery knew the suggestion of scarcity created desire. She set her phone down, expecting Cersei wouldn't respond until the morning at the earliest, and was startled when it buzzed once with a new message. 

'I can rearrange plans.'

That was probably a lie, too, but sometimes kindness was just accepting the obvious untruth. She waited a minute before responding. 

'There's a new Dornish place near your apartment. Want to try that?'

'That will be fine.'

'8?'

'Yes.'

'See you then!' Margaery hesitated over the exclamation point but decided to go with it. Cersei never replied back. 

On Thursday Margaery went to Jaime and Brienne's apartment to talk guest seating for the reception. Jaime was out of town for a few nights so she brought over a bottle of wine and an assortment of cheeses, which she carefully sliced and plated while Brienne laid out small, cut-out circles representing tables all over the top of the kitchen island. 

Margaery uncorked the wine and poured them each a big glass she unearthed from one of the kitchen's many cupboards. She took hers to the sliding glass doors of the balcony and stared out at the lights of King's Landing, leaving Brienne muttering to herself in the kitchen. 

“Gods I am jealous of this view. If Grandmother's house wasn't so convenient I might move out to a place in this building.” 

“It's pretty great,” Brienne said, distracted. Margaery glanced at her, saw her wine was untouched and she was frowning down at a scattered mess of little squares with names on them. “Do you think we should put Olenna at the same table as Tywin and my dad? Neither of us has mothers, it might be too awkward with just the two men.”

“If you don't mind her giving Tywin indigestion then go for it.” Margaery sipped her wine and wandered back to the table. She, Cersei, Tyrion, and Addam Marbrand, as the bridal party, were sitting at the main table with Jaime and Brienne. The fathers were currently alone at a parents table. Everything else was empty, although there designations like 'work friends' and 'family friends.' “She would appreciate being at one of the front tables, though. Would do wonders for her ego.”

“Your grandmother doesn't need anything to make her ego bigger. No offense.” 

“None taken.” Margaery sifted through the names and then put Lysa-from-two-cubicles-over's card at the table farthest in the back. “There, I've done my part.”

Brienne glanced up and laughed softly. “Tempting, but I'd rather have Gilly close and I can't split up work friends.”

“Why not? They don't want to see each other on their off time either. Let Lysa make some new friends with some of Twyin's required invites. In fact, the more you mix and match, the more interesting your wedding will be.”

“I don't want it to be interesting,” Brienne sighed. “I just want it to be done.”

“Spoken like a true romantic.”

“It's not that. It's...” Brienne chewed her lip and looked away, embarrassed. “It's stupid. You'll judge me.”

“Brie. I'm your best friend, no I won't.”

“ _I_ judge me.”

“Well that's your problem.” Margaery sat down on the stool next to Brienne and covered her friend's large hand with her much smaller one, stilling her nervous fingers. “We haven't had a lot of chance to talk since you got engaged. I'm still here for you.” 

“I know, I'm sorry. I've been swept up in everything.”

“Your life _has_ been the wilder one this year. Listen,” Margaery set her wine glass down with a clank, grabbed Brienne's hands in her both of hers. “I know you love Jaime, but if you don't want to get married, you don't have to. He worships you, he'd do whatever you wanted, even if you can't see that yourself.”

“It's not that at all. It's...” Brienne's face twisted with worry. “Please don't laugh.”

“I swear.”

“It feel like marrying Jaime...it's like it's the start of my life.”

Margaery raised her eyebrows. “I do judge you for that.”

“I know it sounds terrible! But look at you – you've done so much already. Your makeup line, your travels, your love life. I've always just plodded along until now.” 

“You left that sleepy island to move to the middle of King's Landing all by yourself. If anything your life started when you did that. At the very least when you met me.”

Brienne laughed. “My life got a thousand times better when I met you. But I've always admired what you were doing without doing anything myself. I followed along when you decided to go out – it was even you who talked to Jaime and Cersei first. Now with Jaime, it's like I've lifted my head and I can see the whole world, not just my own feet in front of me.” She shook her head. “I'm not sure there's any way to talk about this that doesn't utterly ruin my feminist cred.”

Margaery patted her hand. “Honestly I'm sure Jaime feels the same way about you.” 

“You think?”

“It stuns me that you still don't fully get how he feels about you. For the rest of us, whenever the two of you are in a room together it's like we're constantly at the beginning of some romantic porno and we never get the payoff.” 

Brienne was bright red. “Except Cersei, I guess.” 

“I guess.” Margaery picked up her drink, swirling the deep red wine and trying to ignore the pit in her stomach. “How do you think Cersei's doing?”

“I think she's trying to live her life for the first time, too, except she's got three kids and a reputation to protect.”

“Sounds rough.”

“It is and she doesn't seem to want to let anyone help her. With anything. Ever. Even Jaime, who, honestly is still working through their admittedly intense relationship, can only do so much for her.” 

“That's better anyway, right? He's got you to worry about now.” 

“Yeah but then who will be there for Cersei?” Brienne picked up Cersei's name from the pile and rubbed her fingers over it, and Margaery gulped down an overly large swallow of wine. It was ridiculous to feel jealous of her friend who clearly was just trying to be a good sister-in-law, even if said friend and future sister-in-law had had sex in the not-too-distant past. 

It was ridiculous, but Margaery felt it anyway. She frowned down at the circles. “That's not your responsibility,” she said, pleased at how smooth her voice sounded. 

“I know.” The 'but' lay unspoken and Margaery left it there, suddenly sick of talking about Lannisters at all. “Just throw names at tables and call it a day,” she said. “And then we can go out dancing.”

“It's only Thursday, I have work tomorrow.” 

“Your nine to five schedule is a drag.”

“Do you want to go out tomorrow night? I don't have anything planned except this.” She waved at the circles. 

“I can't.” Margaery finished off her wine and felt Brienne studying her. “What?”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I'm going out to dinner with a friend.”

“Oh.” She still felt Brienne's stare, but dialed back to her normal intensity. Margaery wasn't sure why she was reluctant to tell Brienne, except she liked the idea of having a bit of Cersei just for herself. “Maybe next week then.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Margaery poured herself another glass of wine and an almost sincere grin. “Let's make some progress on this puzzle. I know just what table Loras should be at.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a bit but the fic is flowing now. I have a much better sense of Margaery and what she wants and why, as well as Cersei. I am in the 'rubbing my hands gleefully' stage of this fic as I think about what's to come.

In the end, Olenna did end up with Tywin and Selwyn at the family table, as well as Jaime's aunt and uncle and Loras and Renly. Margaery had fought for Loras to end up chaperoning the kids' table, but Brienne put her foot down. She left Lysa in the back with Tywin's pals, though. 

With her dinner non-date with Cersei looming, Margaery managed to pass the time quickly on Friday by sampling products from the new Seduction line for Roses & Thorns, the makeup company she'd started with her grandmother's seed money. Olenna wasn't exactly a silent partner, but she let Margaery handle the product development without interfering, which was where Margaery always felt most engaged. Testing shades and texture and reliability was the type of day job she'd dreamed about as a young teen, testing different styles in the mirror while she waited to grow into her round face and big eyes. All three of her brothers had teased her relentlessly about her “girlie” activities, until she'd taught Loras that eyeliner looked smoking hot on guys, too, and she managed to smooth out Willas' pock-marked skin when he had college photos. Garlan still gave her shit, but Garlan gave everybody shit and none of them listened to him anyway. 

As eight pm crept closer, though, Margaery couldn't stop thinking about Cersei, and she gave up entirely on her work to stare in dark consideration at her closet. 

Margaery didn't choose clothes based on what her current interest would like. She chose clothes because she liked them, and just assumed everyone else would like them on her. Her life, to this point, suggested that was a solid plan of attack. But now she was roaming idly through dresses, skirts, and shoes, trying to pinpoint what would most attract Cersei and driving herself mad because of it. 

She wasn't even convinced Cersei tolerated her at this point, yet she was trying to find the right style of underwear to impress her. 

“What are you doing?” she grumbled to herself, grabbing the nearest dress and putting it on. It was deep green, with a flowy skirt and modest bodice, perfect for two acquaintances having a meal together. And if the heels she chose were several inches high, that was only because they matched the color of the dress. 

By the time her driver dropped her off outside Desert Sands, the new high-cuisine Dornish restaurant owned by Ellaria Sands, Margaery had talked herself down from several cancellation ledges and convinced herself she was in control of the situation and would not let haughty, tight-lipped Cersei Lannister make her act like a bumbling teenager again. She entered the warm, golden light of the restaurant and blinked; it was dim inside, moody and romantic with flickering candles at each table and soft instrumental Dornish music playing. There were mostly booths, and a few tables in the middle that still managed to feel private with the strategic placement of columns, plants, and low shelves covered in Dornish paraphernalia. Olenna would have sniffed and said it was all a Bit Much, but Margaery loved it. 

The maitre d' bowed slightly from behind his podium as she entered. 

“Good evening,” he said, smiling. He was tanned and handsome, and the smile he gave Margaery was extremely appreciative. It was a look she was familiar with, and she gave him one of her patented 'charming but not too friendly' smiles in return. 

“I have a reservation, under Tyrell?”

“Ah!” the man said, “of course. Welcome, Ms Tyrell, your companion is already here. This way, please.” Margaery checked the time on her phone curiously: 8:01. Cersei was unexpectedly punctual. The man wove smooth as a snake through the restaurant's foliage, ending up at a secluded booth for two. He took Margaery's coat and waited until she was seated to guesture to the menu already on the table. 

“May I get you something to drink besides water?”

“Not yet,” Margaery said, glancing at Cersei, who hadn't even bothered to look up from where she was studying her menu. Margaery slid into the booth as the maitre d' bowed and slipped away again. Cersei continued to ignore her, so Margaery picked up her menu, vowing not to be the one to break first. 

They sat that way, staring at their individual menus in complete silence, for six minutes – Margaery surreptitiously checked her phone to confirm it – when Cersei casually set her menu down and said “good evening.” 

Somehow Margaery still felt like she had lost and she cursed herself internally as she set her own menu down. “Evening.” 

They stared at each other in the dancing light created by their table candle and the barest suggestion of a lamp from overhead. Cersei had her hair pulled back in a tight bun and was wearing a simple blouse and pencil skirt that she made look like high fashion just by wearing them. Her make-up was excellent, subdued but pivotal in bringing out the green of her eyes, the fullness of her lips. She tapped her pale pink manicured nails on the menu cover. 

She truly was a beautiful statue of a woman, held together so tightly you would never notice a crack. Margaery wondered, as she always did now, what Cersei would look like coming apart against her. Fucking Brienne and her fucking stories. Margaery had asked for, and Brienne had provided, just enough details that it was all Margaery could think about when they were in the same space together, Cersei looking like golden marble and Margaery wondering where she could wield her chisel just right to crack her open. Brienne had said Cersei had never entirely let go, not once, but Margaery was certain she could get her to. What was inside that Cersei had locked away so tightly? 

“Are you ready to order?” Cersei asked, the statue coming to life with a lift of her perfectly trimmed eyebrow. 

“I suppose.” 

They waved a server over, a lovely young woman with long red hair and a sweet smile who introduced herself as Sansa, and Cersei gave her a devastating once-over. “You don't look Dornish,” she'd said, smiling benignly. 

“I'm not, ma'am,” the younger girl had said, and Margaery glanced down at the table to hide a smile. Cersei would hate that 'ma'am,' she was sure. “The food is all authentic, though, cooked by the finest chefs in Dorne.” 

“If they were in Dorne, then they wouldn't be here, would they?” Sansa, already pale as snow in the candelight, somehow went paler. “They are _from_ Dorne,” Cersei said, and then ordered her food as though the entire conversation had never happened and when poor Sansa hurried away again, Margaery wondered if she'd even gotten their order right. Grandmother always said that Cersei Lannister was sharp as a tack and a hundred times deadlier. 

“I didn't realize grammar was such a hot topic for you,” Margaery murmured. 

“I was not cruel to the girl.” 

_Interesting response_ , Margaery thought. “I didn't say you were.” 

“Jaime says I'm too abrupt with servers. He complains the entire meal if I say one thing too firm. It's a good thing Brienne has him locked away doing wedding nonsense, I rarely enjoy meals with him anymore.” 

Cersei's tone was believably bland, but she also wasn't quite meeting Margaery's eyes. “I love Brienne with all my heart but honestly I would hire them a septon and a church tomorrow if I thought they'd go for it, just so I can stop talking about wedding details with her.” 

“Soon it will be babies, I'm sure,” Cersei said. 

“Has Jaime mentioned he wants a family?” she asked.

“He's talked about it before. He's a very good uncle, dotes on my children whenever he's around. I'm sure he'd love to have one of his own with her.” 

“They would have such tall children.” 

“Giants,” Cersei agreed, and Margaery caught the fleeting ghost of a smile. 

“Let's promise not to talk about Brienne, Jaime, their wedding, or their giant children tonight, shall we?”

“I completely agree,” Cersei said. The sommelier sidled up to their table and they each selected a different glass of red wine before he disappeared once more. “You own a make-up company,” Cersei continued. 

“I do.” 

“It's doing well, I hear.”

“Daenerys – you know, the star of Mother of Dragons?” Cersei nodded. “She dropped our name in an interview so that was a huge boost.”

“Intriguing. Have you approached her to do an advertising campaign?”

“Not yet. Are you trying to sell me on work? I thought this was a friendly dinner.” Margaery had done her own inspection of Cersei this week, searching for information on the internet and trying to casually pump her grandmother for dirt without getting the curious old woman's attention too focused. Mostly she'd discovered from her grandmother that neither Robert nor Tywin wanted Cersei to work so she hadn't during her marriage, and she learned via the internet that Cersei had graduated with a marketing degree just before the birth of her first child. Now that Cersei was out on her own, Brienne had mentioned she was starting her own advertising business. 

Cersei shrugged one shoulder, a smooth, supple roll of muscle and bone that was far more distracting than it should have been. “Who says you can't mix business and pleasure?”

Margaery took a sip of her wine to hide her suddenly dry mouth. “I'm a fan of mixing pleasure with all my activities,” she said once she'd gathered herself. 

“Perhaps we can come to an arrangement, then.”

_Fuck yes_ , Margaery thought. Aloud she only said, “perhaps,” and then their white garlic soup arrived and disrupted the tension. 

Cersei seemed unaffected as she carefully unfolded and laid her napkin on her lap, dipped her spoon so precisely into the soup it was like a world-class diver cutting a perfect line in a pool, and then brought the soup to her lips and didn't so much as slurp it as invite it into her mouth, where it seemed to go willingly. Even Margaery with all her social graces could never have hoped to eat soup in such a refined manner. 

“Don't like the soup?” Cersei asked, and Margaery looked down at her still untouched bowl. 

“I was letting it settle, so the flavors could fully express themselves,” she said. She attempted to emulate Cersei's soup eating but still had to slurp to get the soup off her spoon. 

The rest of the meal went the same. Margaery had never felt more like a clumsy oaf in her life. In truth she had _never_ felt like a clumsy oaf. She'd always been the dainty one; perfectly put-together, charming and, as one professor had called her once, ebullient. She'd taken ballet classes, for the gods' sake, and could walk in high heels like she was born in them. She knew all the right social niceties, she knew which fork went where and when to use it, she knew how to be a lady. But in Cersei's presence she felt like a penitent before her goddess. 

It was infuriating.

The only thing that kept Margaery from being outright angry was the excellent food and the fact that Cersei, on top of everything else, was funny. Not in a broad or even laugh out loud way, but her comments about people in their social circle were sly and honest, and her self-deprecating comments about the Lannister family made her seem almost likable. By the end of the evening Margaery was annoyed _and_ horny. 

Their waitress, Sansa, returned with the check, glanced between the two of them, and then set it in the exact middle of their table. “Thank you for dining with us, I hope you had a lovely evening, ladies.” 

“It was delicious,” Margaery said. Cersei nodded the slightest amount in agreement and Sansa broke into a wide, relieved smile. 

“We hope to see you again soon!” She cleared off the last of their empty dishes and hurried away again. 

“Split the check?” Margaery asked hurriedly, grabbing the bill. 

“If you hire me to do your advertising I could write it off as a business expense.”

“I haven't even seen any of your work.” 

Cersei patted her lips with her napkin and then got out her phone. She scrolled through photos before handing it over to Margaery. There was a picture of Stannis Baratheon shaking her hand in front of a 'Voted Best In King's Landing!' sign on the front of his deli. 

“Our local ad campaign got him on the radar and he won in a landslide. He's never even been considered before.” 

“I don't need local ad campaigns, I want to go bigger.” 

“I appreciate that drive. Let me put together a plan for you this weekend and you can decide if my ambitions match your own.” 

Margaery had no doubt that they did; she considered hiring her on the spot, for entirely non-sex-related reasons, but she was too invested in Roses & Thorns to risk it. “Monday?” she said. “We're both going to the florist with Jaime, we could talk after that.” 

“That will work.” Cersei handed her a credit card from her small purse. “Let me buy dinner tonight, we can call it an initial business consultation.” 

The small rectangular piece of plastic looked so innocuous, but it felt wrong to accept the offer, like it gave Cersei one more thing to hold over Margaery, an imbalance she could not allow. She took Cersei's card and tucked hers in next to it, handing the bill to Sansa herself and insisting the check be split down the middle. Cersei frowned but didn't interfere and for the first time that evening, Margaery felt like she'd come out on top. 

By the time they were standing outside on the sidewalk, the Friday evening downtown crowd already flowing around them, Margaery felt all her confidence return to her. A pair of men walking by couldn't take their eyes off of her and Cersei, and a group of women stopped chattering when they saw the two of them and just smiled, starstruck just by the sight of them. 

Cersei didn't acknowledge or even seem to notice any of the responses she was getting, she just checked her phone and then looked at Margaery. “Would you like to come back to my apartment?” she asked, and Margaery blinked at her. “For coffee,” Cersei added in a low voice. 

In a flash, Margaery could see how the whole night would go: they would go back for coffee, they'd sit barefoot on Cersei's couch and talk quietly, until Cersei took her mug from her hands and pressed her down, kissing her firmly, not a request or even a demand, just an expectation that Margaery would want this. And she would, of course she would; the feel of Cersei's nails trailing down her skin, their bodies pressed together, the almost unbearable heat of her. Cersei would drive her at her leisure, taking her to her limits like a new car. It would be incredible. And it would be the end. Cersei was interested in a one night stand with a willing partner; she was not interested in Margaery herself. Not yet. When they did finally fuck, and Margaery knew deep down in her soul it was going to happen, it would be because Cersei wanted _her_. 

Weakened by the imagery but strengthened by her own vow, Margaery said, “no thank you, not tonight.” 

For a moment, Cersei's face transformed, the facade falling to show the startled, struck woman underneath. She had not imagined Margaery would say no, and Margaery hid her smile by taking a step closer and kissing Cersei, a warm press of her lips to Cersei's cheek, timing it to inhale the dark scent of Cersei's perfume before stepping away again to avoid losing her resolve. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening, we'll have to do it again sometime. I look forward to seeing your proposal on Monday.” Margaery gave a small wave and turned her back on Cersei and managed not to do a triumphant fist-pump until she was safely back in her car.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, sorry this took so long. My normal writing time last weekend was entirely consumed by the J/B fairytale AU I was suddenly compelled to write. At least that was a one-shot so I can happily return to this.

“I had no idea there were so many types of flowers,” Jaime said glumly on Monday. He was standing in front of a book half a foot thick and filled with pictures of flower arrangements past. Margaery was peering past his shoulder to look while he flipped pages, and Cersei stood off to the side, arms folded across her chest, steadily watching Jaime and Margaery. 

“Just pick anything,” Margaery urged him. “No one cares.” 

“Brienne does!”

“Brienne only cares that there's no roses, everything else is fine. There, what about that one,” she said, plunking her finger on a random picture before he turned away. 

Jaime peered at the description and then looked down at her. “Very funny.” 

Margaery read it, too: _Condolences Bouquet: A lovely message for a grieving friend_. She laughed. “Okay not that one.” 

Cersei sighed and stepped over. “Let me do it,” she said, nudging Jaime out of the way. He stepped back and gestured at the book. 

“Be my guest.” Jaime ran his hand through his hair and smiled down at Margaery and she was struck as as always by the ease of his handsomeness. She'd never met a person who had to work less at being attractive. “Cersei has great taste, she'll figure this out.” 

“Wonder why we even bothered to come,” Margaery said, smiling back at him. 

“She gets lonely when she doesn't see me much.”

Cersei made a noise that did not sound like she agreed and Jaime and Margaery grinned at each other. 

“Brienne told me we have you to thank for where Lysa ended up in the seating arrangements.”

“It was a stroke of genius, I admit.” 

“Father's going to have a stomachache by the end of the night, though. Your grandmother will eat him for dessert and not in the sexy way.”

“She could do that, too, though.”

Jaime seemed to consider it for a moment before he blanched. “Gods I do not want to think of my father as anything but a hard-nosed businessman.”

“Think of Brienne,” she said. “She looks so amazing in her dress, wait til you see it.” She watched Jaime's whole face change and somehow, suffused with just his love for Brienne, he became even more unbearably beautiful. “Wow you are a goner, Lannister.”

“Completely,” he agreed happily. 

“This one,” Cersei said, stepping away, one finger pointing to an arrangement of pale blue and red flowers intermingled with white, all backed by deep green leaves. “They'll add color without overwhelming everyone and will compliment Brienne's dress.” 

“Those are perfect,” Jaime said and Margaery had to agree. 

“You were right, she has great taste.” 

Cersei just rolled her eyes a little and helped Jaime make the order while Margaery wandered around the flower shop. It was a cozy place, filled with flowers in refrigerated cases and garlands along the counters and shelves. She bent to smell a rose, letting the scent linger in her throat. Then there was another scent, one much headier that stirred her belly, and she knew Cersei was standing near. 

“Good job, seriously,” Margaery told her without looking. It seemed easier to talk to Cersei when she didn't have to meet the other woman's beautifully carved face. “Jaime was drowning there.”

“They're just flowers,” Cersei said, but she seemed pleased. “Do you still have time for the advertising presentation after we're done here?”

Margaery looked over, had to shift a little away to escape the intensity of Cersei's stare. “Yes, I'm looking forward to it. Should we do it at Jaime's?”

“Should you do what at Jaime's?” the man in question asked, bounding over like a curious puppy. 

“Cersei put together a marketing proposal for my company and she's going to present it today.”

“You can absolutely use the apartment. After this I'm going with Pod and Tyrion to get tuxes. It's wedding chores day for me, you'll have the apartment to yourselves.” 

Margaery's heart sped up a little at that but she reminded herself of her promise from Friday and just nodded. “Great.” 

“Very well,” Cersei said, the weight of her stare on Margaery's body as real as a caress. 

Jaime drove them back to his apartment, Margaery in the back and trying not to stare at the nape of Cersei's neck the entire time. The two chatted about Cersei's children and how they were doing with Robert in their second week. 

“Do you miss them?” Jaime asked, glancing over at Cersei, and Margaery held her breath, trying to listen without looking like she was. 

“Every day,” Cersei said quietly. “But it's hard to be a single parent to three children. The time to myself is appreciated, too.” 

“If you ever need to bring them over during the weeks you have them, you know they're welcome. Brienne won't mind.” 

“You two need time to yourselves. You hardly know each other and you're already getting married.”

“First of all, that's not true, we know everything we need to know, and second of all, it would be good practice.” He looked in the rearview mirror and Margaery could see the eagerness in his eyes. She'd have to gently probe Brienne to see what her plans were for a family and if she'd shared them with Jaime. He was ready to pop out a baby all on his own by the look of him. 

“I could watch your kids,” Margaery offered, and then immediately wished she hadnt't when Cersei went rigid in the passenger seat. In the mirror's reflection, Jaime's brows lifted. “What? I have experience. Two of my older brothers have children and I've watched them.” Technically true. She didn't have to say it was at family gatherings and she'd always been annoyed they'd assigned her the task, that would certainly not impress Cersei. Though why she was trying to impress Cersei was still its own mystery. 

“Thank you for the offer,” Cersei said in a tone of voice indicating she didn't consider it serious at all. Margaery felt her temper jump, offended. 

“Do you think I'd be hopeless at it just because I like makeup?”

“I think I would rather entrust the care of my children with someone who had a sense of responsibilities in the world.” 

Jaime, the coward, tried to make himself small in the driver's seat as Margaery leaned forward between them. “What does that mean?” she asked, her voice controlled and sharp. 

“It means you're still immature.”

“Cersei,” Jaime murmured but Margaery ran over him. 

“Immature? Because...what, I enjoy going out? I have brunch with a friend every week? Because I don't walk around like I'm better than the entire world and my mere presence is to be considered some gift I'm bestowing on the commoners?”

Cersei's sharp intake of breath only goaded Margaery on. 

“I started and run my own successful business. If you're half as _mature_ as you think you are, you would have researched it, and me, thoroughly before your proposal today and I'll tell you what you found.” Jaime parked the car in front of his fancy apartment building but Margaery continued. “You found out that my grandmother gave me the startup money and I took it and ran with the idea. That I've hustled my ass off selecting the right suppliers, the right look and feel of the products, that I picked the name and designs and was responsible for the social media presence we do have. Maybe you looked at the posts, saw I take arty pictures of my food and post the stupid faces Loras and I make sometimes. Maybe you've read my name in shitty gossip columns because my dad doesn't pay a ransom to keep them out. But none of that gives you any fucking right to say I'm immature. I'm immature? I'm not the one who forced my brother to have sex with only the people I approved of because you couldn't get your own shitty life together.” Margaery regretted that one as soon as she'd said it, but she glared at both Lannisters and threw open the door of the sedan and leapt out, slamming it shut again behind her with the last of her rage. 

The parking attendant, some skinny kid with glasses, blinked at her. “Miss,” he said in greeting. Cersei's door flew open, almost thwacking him in the knees, and she rose from the car in a fury. 

“How dare you,” she hissed, swarming into Margaery's space, inches away. “How dare you pretend you know anything about my life.” 

“I don't know your life, but I know you.”

“Do you?” Cersei's eyes were burning as hot as the deep pit of a bonfire. 

“Yes. And if you'd let your life just happen even one time instead of trying to hold it together so tightly you bled the joy out of it, maybe you'd see being immature sometimes isn't the worst thing in the world.” 

They glared at each other, their faces still a handspan away; Margaery could feel Cersei's rage like heat off of her skin, could feel her breath hot and fast against her lips. _Fuck_ , she thought, realizing she wanted to kiss Cersei more than ever in this moment, wondered briefly if Jaime would just drive away and leave them there or if he'd try to stop her if she did. 

This close, Margaery saw Cersei's pupil's widen, the green almost swallowed by black and she licked her perfect lips even while she still pierced Margaery with her furious gaze and Margaery knew in that instant Cersei wanted to kiss her, too, and it soothed the anger and left only the need. 

Jaime cleared his throat. “If you two are done, could we at least take the yelling to the apartment? You're terrifying poor Lommy.” 

Cersei's lips parted a hairsbreadth, and almost imperceptibly she leaned towards Margaery. “We will finish this later,” she said softly, as much threat as promise, and she turned on her heel and stalked inside. 

Margaery slowed her heavy breathing, glanced over at Jaime who was watching her with a curious tilt of his head. 

“I should go,” she said. 

“Why? Isn't she showing you her proposal?”

“Her-” Margaery choked on a laugh. “After all that?”

“You don't know Cersei as well as you think if you think she'd let that stop her. Really hit a nerve with that immature thing, huh?”

Margaery grimaced. “You have no idea how hard it is to get anyone to take me seriously just because I like to have fun and wear makeup. Everyone in my life is so responsible, except Loras. Sometimes it's easier to just lean into what they expect of me, but it's not all of me.” 

“I imagine Cersei feels the same way,” he said, throwing his keys to the trembling Lommy before heading inside. 

Leaning into the immaturity, Margaery stuck her tongue out at his back before following him inside. 

The ride up the elevator was silent and tense, Margaery and Cersei in separate corners with Jaime between them like a human shield. He let them into the apartment and then checked his watch before looking between them. “Well. Try not to kill each other,” he said, and left again, shutting the door firmly behind him. 

“I have the materials here on the island,” Cersei said, walking around the corner to the kitchen. Margaery followed her in a daze. “Would you like to do it here or shall we sit at the table?”

“You still want to do this?”

“It's a good proposal, a perfect fit for your company. My feelings about you have nothing to do with that.” She tapped her expensively manicured fingers on the laptop she'd brought and in any other person Margaery would have labeled it as nerves. For Cersei it was probably calculated to make her seem more approachable. 

“Fine,” Margaery sighed. “Let's see it.”

“I hope you'll give it a fair review.”

“I will.” She sat down at the counter and let Cersei walk through her materials. At the end of an hour, Margaery knew she'd be a fool to not agree immediately to what Cersei had put together. The plan was tailored perfectly to Roses & Thorns, both the customers they currently had and the wider base Margaery wanted; it attacked from multiple angles so they weren't relying on any one tactic to do everything and she was even priced reasonably for the amount of work. And when, in spite of herself, Margaery engaged with the ideas and shared her suggestions, Cersei listened thoughtfully, bounced them back with smart questions and untangled the mess of them until they'd drilled down to what Margaery really wanted. 

“What do you think?” Cersei said, sitting back down after Margaery's last question had been addressed. 

“I think you're good at this,” Margaery admitted. 

Cersei smiled, a proud, upward sweep of the lips that made the corner of her eyes crinkle appealingly. “I spent all weekend on it,” she said. 

“It paid off.” Margaery stuck out her hand. “You're hired, if you don't mind working with an immature, occasionally short-tempered loudmouth.” 

“I'll make do,” she said, but there was a lightness in her tone that suggested she was at least partially teasing. She took Margaery's hand, a firm, cool grip that made Margaery's insides light on fire. Her skin was so smooth it was like silk, and Margaery knew it would feel the same on Cersei's stomach, on the inside of her thighs. They shook a moment longer than necessary and then Margaery let go before she did something inappropriate like pulling Cersei against her. 

“To our partnership,” Margaery managed to say with some semblance of control. 

“I look forward to it. I can get started tonight, if there's nothing else?”

Margaery considered how rude it would be to have angry sex on her best friend's bed with her fiance's sister and decided modern day etiquette courses needed to expand their repertoire. “Not right now, no.”

“I'll be in touch with initial mock-ups, then. You'll be going along for the band selection next week, correct?”

“Yes, that's an area of personal interest.”

“Jaime asked me to go as well. We can sync up after that on what I've come up with?”

“That works.”

Cersei gathered her things and herself. “Do you need a ride home?” she asked in a voice too casual to actually be casual.

“I promised Brienne I'd wait for her here to get off work. Invitation stuffing or something. She's got a checklist.”

“Ah, the checklist.” Cersei shuddered a little and Margaery nodded knowingly. “Well good luck. I'll see you next week.” 

Margaery waited until Cersei's hand was on the door before saying, “you're not going to apologize, are you?”

Cersei glanced back over her shoulder, the hallway light above her head giving her the dramatic shadows of an old movie star. “Whyever would I?” she said archly, before leaving, very dramatically sweeping the door open and then closed behind her again. Margaery could hear the music in her head. 

Annoyed, Margaery threw an apple from the fruit bowl at the door, pleased at the hard thunk as it connected and then bounced to the floor, leaving a wet gleam on the wood. 

“I'm not immature,” she muttered, going to clean up the mess. It annoyed her that Cersei didn't consider her an equal, it annoyed her that she cared what Cersei thought at all, it annoyed her that the dampness left by the apple made her wonder what it would take to get Cersei's panties wet, too. 

“I need to get laid,” she announced to the bruised fruit, taking it to the compost bin. Margaery briefly thought about fucking Jaime, who she was sure would be good in bed and a lot of fun and then they could go their separate ways, but even if she were the type of woman who'd do that to a friend – and she emphatically was not, she'd rather be celibate the rest of her life – Jaime was so smitten with Brienne he'd forgotten other women existed as more than people he could tell how much he loved Brienne. The good part of his single-mindedness was how funny it was to be with them when they were out together and harpies on the prowl would think he was an easy target to lure away and he would blithely double-down on his adoration of Brienne, usually by kissing her in a way that suggested it would be his turn to top tonight. 

She wondered if Cersei would let Margaery top her while she gave her proposal again. Maybe Cersei would wear glasses and knee-high stockings and nothing else while she did it. 

“Woah what the shit, brain?” Margaery said out loud, pressing her hands hard against the side of her head. But now that the image was in there, she couldn't un-see it, Cersei sitting up on one of the kitchen stools trying desperately to get through her report without stopping as Margaery stroked her fingers in and out of Cersei's cunt and sucked on her peaked nipples. She'd have warned Cersei that if she couldn't make it through the whole proposal then Margaery would be forced to stop, and neither of them wanted that. Her hand would be so wet with Cersei's juices, first two fingers, then three, Cersei's soft walls opening wide to her, Cersei's voice breathy and almost on the edge, the ultimate test of her control when Margaery leaned down to nibble at her smooth thighs. 

Was it bad to masturbate at a friend's house? Margaery looked around, her thighs clenching. She could do it on the couch. Or even better, in the shower. She had well over an hour until Brienne came home and Jaime would be out long past that. 

Margaery headed grimly for the guest shower and let herself be as loud as she wanted as she orgasmed, imagining Cersei's stuttering gasp as she finished her report and came hard around Margaery's hand, five fingers in and driving them both over the edge. 

The water ran soothingly down Margaery's back as she knocked her forehead softly against the shower wall and wondered why the gods were tormenting her this way.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten this story! But it's going to go to a once a month posting while I work on my ever-expanding J/B AU-in-progress that I haven't started posting yet. This one has six more chapters after this, so I know that at least. I did some re-planning and organizing and it's all ready, I just have to, you know, write it. Hee.

“Tommen, don't touch that.” 

Margaery peeked in the doorway of the building and saw a small, blond blur drop something to the floor and tear off. Cersei was near the door, her back to Margaery, her shoulders tight. 

“Tommen,” she said again sharply, and the boy halted, blinking his big blue eyes. 

“Sorry mama,” he said, and then he saw Margaery and frowned. “Mama, who that?”

Cersei turned and Margaery spotted the exhaustion on her face for a brief second before she drew it back in and her features went still and cool. “That's Brienne's friend, Margaery.” 

“Aunt Brienne told me about her,” a little girl said from the corner where she was twirling in some rotating neon lights. Her blonde curls bounced around her face as she spun, her skirt swishing and fanning out. From nearby a slender, solemn older boy took Margaery in with eyes as cool and calculating as his mother's. 

“Hello,” Margaery said to all of them. She glanced around the open space. There was a door in the back and DJ equipment and a few instruments scattered around, but mostly there was floor that looked like it was begging to be danced on. 

“Jaime won't be able to make it today,” Cersei said.

“Brienne won't either, but she said the band couldn't reschedule so she would trust our decision.”

Cersei frowned but nodded. “Very well. The band leader said he would be back in a few minutes, they needed to get ready.”

The littlest boy, Tommen, grabbed Cersei's hand and continued to stare at Margaery. He had a round face and darkly golden hair and was dressed like he'd come from a children's fashion catalog in pressed corduroys and a button-down shirt with a little bowtie. Margaery wanted to squish him. “Hello,” she said instead, crouching down to his level. “My name's Margaery.”

He ducked his chin into his chest but glanced up at her under his long lashes. “Tommen,” he whispered. 

“It's very nice to meet you, Tommen.” 

“I'm Myrcella,” the girl said, spinning in the other direction now. “I'm six.” 

Margaery stood up and smiled at her, but she was too busy dancing to notice. The older boy folded his arms across his chest when she turned her smile on him. He looked wary more than anything. 

“What's your name?” she asked him. 

“Joffrey,” he said after a moment's hesitation. “Joffrey Baratheon.” 

Based on what little she'd gleaned from Brienne, he was nine and struggling with his parents' recent divorce. “I'm pleased to meet you,” she said, walking nearer and holding out her hand to shake. His eyes widened a little but he shook her hand quickly, looking very adult as he did so. 

When Margaery glanced back at Cersei, she found Cersei watching her curiously. “Your children are lovely,” she said to Cersei, and Cersei's smile was brief but sincere. 

The band leader came back out, a man around Margaery's age with shaggy brown hair with glimmers of red, and bright blue eyes. He was stocky and didn't look like someone who would play a string quartet at a wedding in his ripped jeans and grungy t-shirt with the giant, snarling wolf head on the front.

“Apologies for the wait,” he said, shaking Cersei's and Margaery's hands. He had a charmingly serious face. “I'm Robb Stark. The band is ready to play, are you expecting anyone else?”

“No, just us,” Cersei said. 

“Okay. Which one of you is Briane?”

“Brienne,” Margaery said. “And she's not here, we're deciding for her.” 

“Oh. Cool. Well please have a seat over there, then, while we get set up. Brienne asked us to play a standard and also something modern, plus Arya is an amazing DJ who can create something new if you want to hear that.” 

Margaery, Cersei, and Joffrey sat in the folding chairs Robb indicated, while Myrcella stayed dancing in the lights and Tommen curled in Cersei's lap. From the back, two women, one with red hair and one with brown, and three other men filtered out. The youngest man looked like he wasn't even old enough to drink yet as he settled behind the drum set. The red-haired young woman looked oddly familiar, but Margaery couldn't place her. 

Robb sat down with a violin and introduced the rest. “Bran is our cellist and Sansa is our second violin. She's also our lead singer once we get to the modern stuff. I play violin, obviously, and Jon is our violist.” Sansa tucked her red hair behind her ear and smiled nervously at them and Margaery realized she was their waitress from the Dornish restaurant. Bran looked serious and solemn behind his cello and Jon, with dark, curly hair and dark, moody eyes, looked like a sad orchestra goth. Margaery looked down and grinned at her lap, not wanting to offend him. 

“Once we get to the pop stuff,” Robb was saying, “Rickon plays drums and Arya provides keyboard and beats. We can make it as dance-y as you want there. But Brienne requested this first. Ready?” he asked the others, and they all nodded and Margaery could tell in that echoed movement that they were all related in some way. 

The quartet played beautifully together, the notes soaring and whispering in turns, each of them in perfect time with each other. Even Myrcella was mesmerized into stillness by the bows working across strings, their fingers vibrating along necks. By the time the last tremulous notes of Robb's violin died away, Margaery had tears in her eyes and she spontaneously applauded, joined immediately by Myrcella and Joffrey, who looked as moved as she was. Tommen clapped, too, though Margaery suspected it was more because everyone else was doing it. 

Robb and Sansa beamed at each other while Bran tended to his cello and Jon stared hard just past Margaery's shoulder, which, when she glanced behind her, seemed to be the wall. 

“That was lovely,” Margaery said. 

“Thanks. Give us a few minutes to put these away and set up for the rest.” 

Joffrey, seated on Cersei's other side, ducked his head and Margaery saw him press his fingers briefly to his eyes. He glared hard at his feet as though in reprimand, his young brow furrowed. 

“Don't you love classical?” Margaery asked him gently. “It makes me cry sometimes, the violins especially.” 

“It's just music,” Joffrey said without looking at her, but the words felt like an echo of something someone else had told him once. 

“Music is very powerful. My grandmother was at a performance once where every person in the room was openly weeping. I think your grandfather was there, you should ask him about it.” 

Joffrey jerked his head up and blinked. “Grandfather _Lannister_?” 

Margaery felt Cersei watching her, too. “Yep. Maybe your grandpa Baratheon, too, I don't know. But grandmother definitely mentioned Tywin.”

“Really,” Cersei murmured with a small, secret smile on her lips. 

“I've always believed that a person who can cry because of music is someone with a very deep soul,” Margaery said quietly to Joffrey, who looked down at his hands wrapped around each other. 

“Everybody ready?” Robb asked into the silence. 

“Go ahead,” Cersei said. 

The song they played was something straight from the charts, and they killed it, with Robb on electric guitar, Jon on bass, and Sansa belting out with a voice of surprisingly angelic fury. Myrcella started dancing again and Joffrey watched with a rapt expression, his hands gripping his knees tight. When it was done, Sansa's red hair pressed sweaty against her temples, she looked shyly up at them to see how they'd done.

“You're a better singer than waitress,” Cersei said and Sansa flushed. 

“The extra money helps,” the young woman said, hesitant. “But I can take the time off to play at the wedding, you don't have to worry about that,” she added hurriedly, directing it to Cersei. 

“I would assume,” Cersei said blandly. 

“What did you three think?” Margaery asked the kids. 

“I loved it,” Myrcella said with one last spin. 

“They were really good,” Joffrey said. His eyes were shining. 

Tommen shrugged. “Too loud.”

Margaery laughed a little and impulsively reached out to run her fingers through his blond hair. “We'll get you headphones for the wedding,” she promised. “What did you think?” she asked Cersei.

Cersei studied Margaery with eyes as deep green as an ancient forest. “I'm surprised,” she said quietly, and Margaery's stomach fluttered. “That doesn't happen often.”

“Sometimes it's nice to be surprised.”

“I'd forgotten,” Cersei whispered, and Margaery wanted to kiss her gently, taking Cersei's soft words into her mouth and keeping them on her tongue. 

“You're hired,” Margaery said, forcing herself to turn towards Robb and Sansa and the others. “Brienne gave you the date already, right?”

“Yeah. You don't need to wait for her?”

“No, she trusts us. And she'll definitely trust these critics,” she added, gesturing at the kids. “We'll put down the deposit and you can email her the contract to sign.” 

“Awesome! I'll get that going. We'll work out how to pick songs and timing for the ceremony and everything later. Hey kid,” Robb gestured at Joffrey, “do you want to come help us stow the equipment? Could always use a good roadie.”

For a long moment Joffrey looked offended, like he'd been asked to do the work of someone much more common than he, and he looked so much like Cersei Margaery almost laughed. Instead she leapt to her feet. “I'll help!” she said quickly. “Cersei can handle the deposit.” 

She was obnoxiously cheerful as she helped them stow their instruments, asking loud questions and getting equally loud answers back while Joffrey tried to look disinterested and not as though he were hovering near just to absorb it all. Sansa showed off her violin, her lovely face narrowed with concentration as she worked a tricky fingering. She had long, elegant hands, though they were clearly accustomed to hard work. If she hadn't been barely even twenty, and Cersei wasn't right over there pulling all of Margaery's attention just by how she held a credit card, Margaery might have been interested in the looks Sansa was giving her. The young woman would be eager in bed, Margaery could tell, a bundle of warm sunshine that was happy to learn and even happier to please. But Margaery didn't want sunshine. She wanted Cersei's darkness, the threat and the pull of her, the fight and the eventual, delicious surrender. 

It seemed a million times more wrong to be thinking these thoughts while Cersei's kids hovered around, getting into everything. How did parents ever get over this enough to have sex in the same house? 

They said goodbye to the band and were outside again before Margaery chanced another look at Cersei. “Did you still want to talk about the mock-ups?” she asked, putting on sunglasses and trying to look casual. 

“I need to drop off the children first.”

“No, mama, I stay with you!” Tommen shouted, wrapping himself around her leg.

“We talked about this darling,” Cersei said with more patient warmth in her voice than Margaery had ever heard from her. “You could come with me here but then I need to do some work and you have to stay with Nanny Saranella until I'm done.”

“Noooooo,” the little boy wailed, his face going red. “Stay with mama!” Fat tears spilled down his cheeks and Margaery felt terrible. 

“They can stay around,” she said, “I don't mind.”

“They're very distracting.” Cersei had to lift her voice above Tommen's crying. 

“I'm only going to think about this the entire time even if they're not there. This is heartbreaking.”

Cersei pressed a gentle hand to Tommen's wet cheek. “It's the same nanny we've used since he was born, but since the split weeks he's had more difficulty. They say that consistency is best, though.”

Tommen buried his face in Cersei's pants, his shoulders shaking, and Margaery felt like crying herself. “It's already a special day, right? Let's just finish it out. I'll buy them ice cream,” she added desperately. 

“Ice cream?” Tommen sniffed between his hiccuped crying. 

“No ice cream,” Cersei said firmly. “But, we can all go home together.” She lifted Tommen into her arms and he snuggled against Cersei's neck, his small hands, still lined with baby fat, gripping her shirt fiercely. Cersei pressed her nose againt Tommen's neck and closed her eyes and Margaery's heart twisted inside her. They looked like a painting of motherly love.

Margaery had taken a rideshare to the band's space so she accepted Cersei's offer of a ride back to the apartment. Tommen was asleep five minutes into the car ride, his hair plastered to his head, his cheeks still tear-streaked. Joffrey stared out the window and she couldn't see Myrcella very well behind her but she could hear the girl singing to the songs on the radio. The calm domesticity of it settled over Margaery like a warm blanket and she leaned her head back against the seat and watched Cersei drive, hands firm on the wheel and her eyes soft every time she glanced at her children in the mirror. 

Cersei carried a still-sleeping Tommen up to the apartment while Margaery held Myrcella's hand and listened to the girl chattering nonstop about the musicians and Joffrey followed silently behind. After Cersei had gotten Tommen in bed for a nap, Myrcella in front of the TV for a show, and Joffrey curled in a chair with a book, she joined Margaery in the kitchen and sat down with a barely restrained sigh. 

“We can do this another time if you're tired,” Margaery offered. 

“I'm not tired, I'm just taking a breath.” Cersei tugged her laptop over and opened it. 

“You've got three young kids, it's okay to be tired.”

“I thought this one would be your opening launch,” she said, ignoring Margaery's goodwill. While Cersei ran expertly through the mock-ups, pointing out key elements and laying out her plan, Margaery imagined sitting on the couch with Cersei's head in her lap as they relaxed and watched a show together while the kids slept. She could picture Cersei's legs still in nylons curled up on the couch cushion, could almost feel the weight of Cersei's head on her thighs. Did she even watch TV? Did she ever lay on the couch as night crept onward, mindlessly watching shows through half-open eyes, too tired to get up and go to bed, too awake to fall asleep where she was? 

“Are you even listening to me?” Cersei snapped, startling Margaery out of her reverie. 

“No,” she answered truthfully. 

“Then why am I wasting my breath?”

“Do you want a massage?” 

Cersei stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“I took a class once and you look like you could use one.” Margaery said. There was a crash from the TV show in the living room followed by Myrcella's delighted giggle. Cersei looked like she'd become made of stone. 

“I don't think that's appropriate.”

“It's just a massage and your kids are in the other room. You don't even have to take your shirt off.” Though once she'd said it, Margaery couldn't get it out of her head – Cersei in just a bra going limp under Margaery's hands. 

“Why?”

Margaery licked her lips and dragged one finger along the long line of tight muscle curving from Cersei's neck to her shoulder. She could see Cersei's pulse beating hard at the thin, sensitive skin below her ear. “You're very tense,” Margaery murmured. When Cersei didn't say anything, Margaery stood and came around behind her, watched her shoulders draw up even further. She'd wanted to get her hands on Cersei since she'd first seen her in Ignite, but Margaery hesitated now. “I won't do this if you don't want it,” she said, but Cersei remained quiet. “And I won't start if you don't ask for it.” 

Cersei shifted on the stool and Margaery thought she'd get up and walk away, that making Cersei ask for this was apparently the bridge too far. But instead Cersei settled and turned her head enough so Margaery could see the sharp line of her jaw move as she quietly admitted, “I want this.” 

Margaery didn't press her luck by asking for a please. She laid her hands on Cersei's shoulders, taut as iron bands under her fingers, and pressed, moving her thumbs in slow circles, kneading her fingers into the knots and resistance until they began to yield, bit by slow bit. Cersei's shirt was silk and cool to the touch and it only made Margaery want to feel her skin more, to feel it grow heated under her hands. The muscles started to smooth and lengthen, and Cersei's jaw relaxed as she let the tension go, her hands uncurling on the island counter, fingers resting long and flat and calm. Margaery let her hands stray to the edges of Cersei's shoulders and back to the elegant column of her neck. Cersei was like clay in her hands, but Margaery didn't want to shape her into anything but the woman she already was, just looser and happy. Margaery dragged her thumbs along the bumps of Cersei's spine and Cersei shivered briefly, sighing and drooping a little. She pressed the pads of her fingers gently against the sides of Cersei's throat, felt her heart beating steady and strong. Gods, she wanted to lick every place her fingers had touched, to bite the muscles that had gone so soft and make them tighten again with Cersei's desire. She wanted a slow, quiet fuck while Cersei writhed in moonlight and softly cried out. 

_This was a mistake_ , Margaery thought, her hands stilled on Cersei's skin and unable to tear herself away. She knew if the kids hadn't been just in the other room she'd have given up on her vow to herself and had Cersei pressed against the counter, her hands shoved down Cersei's pants, whether it meant anything to the other woman or not. But she wanted it to mean something now more than ever, when she'd seen Cersei with her children, had seen hints of the gentle depths she kept locked behind those formidable walls. The need for it was a dull roar in Margaery's ears. 

“Are you done?” Cersei asked, her voice gratifyingly hoarse. 

_I haven't even started_ Margaery wanted to say. Or, _not until you're screaming my name._ Or, _I'm afraid I'll never be done wanting you_. But she lifted her hands and Cersei leaned back a little towards her, like she wanted them back on her body. 

“I should go,” Margaery said. In an instant all of Margaery's work disappeared, and Cersei was rigid again as she turned to watch her. “The plan and mock-ups are great. We'll start rolling it out. Send an invoice to me and some ideas for social media posts and we'll get going.” She was talking quickly now, gathering up her purse and her resolve. “Email is fine, we don't have to meet again.” 

“We do,” Cersei said. “We have to plan the bachelorette party.”

Oh gods. “Sure, yes, of course,” Margaery said. “I meant for business. Text me and let me know when you're ready. Maybe we can do it over dinner.” Or in bed, or in the shower, or splayed out like a buffet on Cersei's big dining room table. Fuck. 

Margaery escaped to the living room, waved to Myrcella and Joffrey as she hurried by. 

“Bye,” Myrcella said, waving back. Joffrey just watched her, his young features as curious and all-seeing as his mother's where she stood in the entrance to the kitchen. 

“Tell Tommen I said goodbye,” she told Myrcella, feeling too exposed to look at the other two. She didn't wait for an acknowledgement as she hurried from the apartment and the almost unbearably aching desire to stay.


	6. Chapter 6

Margaery thought about Cersei every day for the next week. It didn't help that Cersei kept emailing her in her capacity as a business partner. She started every email with “Margaery-” and ended them with “Regards, Cersei Lannister” and it slowly drove Margaery crazy with how coolly professional it all was. She pictured Cersei at her kitchen island, back straight, her nails clicking rhythmically on the keys as she typed her thoughtful, artfully distant messages. 

“I can't go on like this,” Margaery sighed aloud, reading yet another perfectly business-like email from Cersei. 

“Go on like what?” Loras asked from her kitchen. He'd moved in with Renly after Jaime and Brienne had announced their engagement, which Margaery suspected had been a directly correlated reaction, but he still visited regularly. He was there that Friday to hang out and watch a weepy romantic drama with her. 

“Like I don't want to have sex with Cersei.” 

She heard the refrigerator slam closed and Loras appeared in the archway. “Cersei _Lannister_?”

“Yes,” Margaery moaned, dragging her hands down her face. “I have for _months_ , it's terrible.”

“Your highly questionable taste aside, if you've wanted to have sex with her so long why haven't you?”

Margaery closed her laptop and set it on the coffee table, curled her feet up under her and looked up at her brother. “You wouldn't understand.”

“Then why did you bring it up?” He disappeared back into the kitchen and Margaery sighed, loud and long. “Tell me or don't, Margey,” he said from the ktichen, “but if you don't, then stop making such a fuss about it.”

She stalked after him, glaring. “Very sympathetic, brother.”

“This is just like when you used to make Facebook posts that just said 'Sigh' and then waited for people to fall all over themselves to find out what was wrong.”

“Whatever,” she grumbled, knowing he had a point. “I haven't had sex with her because I want to have a lot of sex with her.” 

Loras put a dollop of custard into the last mini tart and shook his head. “She just got a divorce, have as much sex with her as you want. Although why you'd want to I'm still not understanding,” he muttered. 

“She's a woman, of course you don't understand.” 

“It's not her being a woman that I object to.”

“She's not like you think,” Margaery said firmly. “Anyway I don't think she even wants to have sex with me.” 

Loras set the dirty dishes in the sink and looked her up and down. “Impossible.”

Margaery smiled a little. “I mean she would definitely have a one night stand, but she doesn't want more than that.”

“And you do?”

“I do.” Margaery stole one of the fresh berries and Loras pulled the bowl away to start placing them on the tarts. 

“How much more?”

“Maybe...I want a girlfriend,” she said, shrugging like she hadn't thought of only that since she'd left Cersei's apartment. 

“Margey.”

“Stop calling me that it makes me feel like a baby.” She felt Loras staring at her and slowly met his eyes. He looked like she'd grown a second head. “What?”

“You've never wanted a serious relationship and now you want one with Cersei Lannister? Do you even know her that well? You know she has kids, right?”

“Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen, yeah. They're actually pretty cool. Cersei and I have spent some time together recently because of the wedding and the work she's doing for us. I know her better than you think.”

Loras frowned at her. “Are you feeling left out because of me moving out and Brienne getting married?”

“No. Well. I am a little...” Margaery plucked a mini-tart off of the tray and shoved the whole thing in her mouth. “Wonewy.”

“Get a cat if you're lonely, not a person.” She swallowed and went for another tart and he smacked her hand away. “These aren't done yet. Here's my advice: have sex with her. Get whatever is going on with your ideal of her out of your system, get through this wedding stuff, and then get on with your life and be grateful you only had a one night stand with Cersei Lannister.”

Margaery leaned against the cold metal of the fridge. “Why do you call her by her whole name all the time? It makes her sound like some sort of monster.” Loras looked meaningfully at her and Margaery grimaced. “You don't know her,” she said, snatching another tart and heading back to the living room.

“Neither do you,” was his annoyed reply. Margaery stuffed the tart in her mouth and ignored him. 

Neither of them brought up Cersei again that night, but she texted Cersei after Loras left, asking when she wanted to meet to plan Brienne's bachelorette party, and Cersei responded almost immediately even though it was after midnight. 

'I'm free Sunday night.'

'Great.' Margaery hesitated and then added, 'my place?' It would feel better to have Cersei here. Home field advantage. 

'That will do. Robert picks up the children at 6pm. Will 8 work?'

'Yeah.' She texted Cersei the address and 'see you at 8 on Sunday' and then carefully set her phone down and stared off into space. She was going to have to clean, wash her sheets, hide any embarrassing childhood photos, and try not to overthink having Cersei in her apartment. 

Maybe Loras was right: maybe she should have a bout of steam-releasing sex and then Margaery could get Cersei out of her head. Seven hells, probably the reason she was so obsessed with Cersei was because she'd spent so much time thinking and none doing, and Margaery always felt better when she was putting her plans into action, much as she did enjoy the dreaming up of them in the first place. Trying to avoid her body's desires was just making her brain confused. Margaery nodded to herself. She would get Cersei into bed for a night and then she could get her out of her head forever.

**********

At eight pm exactly, there was a knock on Margaery's door. She'd been quiet and distracted at brunch that morning, grateful that Jaime and Brienne couldn't make it so she only had Loras and Renly to evade. She asked Renly to tell her about his recent trip to Essos and that took most of their meal, especially when she managed to look interested when he asked if she wanted to see pictures.

The rest of the day Margaery had spent with a long bath scented with one of her special Roses & Thorns bath bombs, a load of laundry for her sheets, and an hour in front of her bathroom mirror making herself look like she hadn't spent an hour in front of the mirror, she just naturally looked like this. 

Margaery took a breath and opened the door. Cersei was wearing grey jeans and a burnished gold shirt that brought out the gold in her eyes and her hair was pulled back in a loose, sexy bun that Margaery wanted to take the pins out of with her teeth. “Hello,” she said instead, and “come inside” and “are you thirsty?” all like a normal person and not one overcome by lust. 

Cersei asked for wine and looked around Margaery's apartment – Margaery was grateful she'd spent the extra time tidying so it looked like something out of a magazine for the moment – and then sat down on her couch while Margaery poured them both two glasses of a pale chardonnay. 

“I've got some ideas for places we could go,” Cersei said, taking the wine when Margaery came over to sit next to her. “Including Ignite.”

“I don't think that would be a good idea,” Margaery said quickly. Take Cersei back to the spot where she'd fallen for and then had her heart broken by Brienne? No way. “We want this to be something new and different. I mean Brie has no experience with male strippers or strip clubs, so we could do that, but...”

“Brienne wouldn't enjoy it.”

“No,” Margaery sighed. She'd known it since Brienne first asked her to be maid of honor. Even if she hadn't only had eyes for Jaime, her friend would spontaneously combust from embarrassment if she were the focus of a show like that. 

“She likes dancing.”

“She likes dancing with Jaime,” Margaery corrected. “I've thought about this a lot over the past month or so and I think we should keep it to one of our houses, just a small group, and light-hearted. I was thinking a lingerie and sex toy party. Then she'd at least come out of it with things she could use with Jaime.” 

And if Margaery got to see Cersei in different types of lingerie and find out what sex toys she liked, that was just a bonus. She heard Loras' voice in her head whispering _just a one night stand_ and mentally waved it off. 

Cersei took a sip of wine and her eyes were dark and penetrating as she stared at Margaery, as though she saw through the thin facade of Margaery's reasoning. “I assume we would all participate,” she said in a low voice that curled around Margaery's spine. 

“It's no fun otherwise. Do you think you can handle it?” 

The smile that lifted Cersei's deep red lips was a challenge and promise both. “I know I can.” She set her wine glass down on the coffee table and leaned back a little. “You know how to arrange it, and when?”

“I do. Will you find out from Jaime who else we should invite so I can email everyone?”

“I will. What will we do for food?”

“Loras can provide finger foods for us, he'd love it.”

“Activity, people, and food. I suppose we're done, then?” Cersei didn't move, just sat there slightly leaned back, one hand along the back of the couch, the other resting calmly on the arm. Her body was an invitation and Margaery was going to accept it this time. 

She set her glass down next to Cersei's and leaned into her space. “With the planning,” she breathed, searching Cersei's elegant features for some sign this wasn't a terrible mistake, that Cersei wanted this, too. The other woman licked her lips and the gold flecks in her eyes were hard and glimmering, small galaxies at the edge of the black hole of her pupils gone wide. Margaery fell into them, kissing Cersei gently at first one and then the other corner of her soft mouth. Cersei shivered a little under her and it was enough to ignite all the heat that had simmered between them. 

Cersei's hands gripped Margaery by the arms, pulling her in as Margaery pressed her body against Cersei's and kissed her hard and hungry on the lips. She shifted and slid her knee in between Cersei's legs, pressing her thigh against Cersei's heat. The other woman moved, rubbing against Margaery's leg and they gasped into each other's mouths. 

When Margaery had imagined Cersei under her it had been mostly how she would look, but the feel of her overwhelmed Margaery now. Her skin was soft everywhere Margaery could get her fingers on it: neck, forearms, belly; and though she moved through the world like a cold statue, on Margaery's couch she was all fire, as bright and hungry as a flame. 

Though Margaery had initiated the kiss, it was Cersei who demanded more with teeth and tongue, her hands already working at the clasp of Margaery's bra and swiftly molding themselves to Margaery's breasts when they were free, the palms of her hands like twisting brands against her nipples. “Oh god,” she moaned into Cersei's commanding mouth and she pulled back a little to undo the buttons of Cersei's shirt. 

“Not yet,” Cersei breathed but Margaery ignored her while Cersei kneaded her breasts, her thumbs running circles over Margaery's sensitive nipples. Margaery would have stopped if she'd said it again, but Cersei didn't stop Margaery from unlatching and shoving her bra up, didn't say anything when Margaery licked a long stripe between her breasts, only arched up into Margaery's mouth when she eagerly sucked her nipple inside.

“Should I stop?” Margaery whispered against Cersei's heaving chest, glancing up at the other woman. Cersei was flushed and sweaty already, her messy bun half un-done just from the friction against the couch. 

“Not yet,” she said again, smiling archly, and Margaery didn't want to wait any longer. She tugged at the belt of Cersei's pants, had her button and zipper open in seconds, revealing black lace panties. Cersei's hands went up and around Margaery's shoulders, the nails digging into her skin when Margaery took the edge of her panties in her teeth. 

“Take these off,” Margaery said against the tender skin below Cersei's belly button, making her shudder. She sat back on her heels and Cersei's hands fell to the cushions. “Now.” 

By some miracle, Cersei obeyed, although there was no surrender in it. She stripped down until she was completely naked, her eyes never leaving Margaery's and by the time she'd arranged herself back on the couch before her, it felt like it had all been Cersei's idea in the first place. 

“You've been with women before,” Cersei said, sounding like they were having a pleasant conversation in the park. 

Margaery ran a finger over her closely shaved pubic hair and Cersei trembled. “I have. I prefer it. Cocks are so aggressive.” She dipped her finger between Cersei's folds and plucked at her clit and Cersei bit down on lips smeared red. 

“I like aggressive,” she said, but her voice wasn't as smooth as before, not as in control, and when Margaery slid her finger down to find Cersei's wet opening, her thighs went tight against Margaery's legs. 

Margaery pressed her finger inside, felt the tension at the core of Cersei's body. “I like cunts,” Margaery said, and pulled her finger out before sliding two back in. Cersei moved against her, pulling Margaery's fingers deeper. “I like the wetness.” Three fingers now, Cersei arching and, there, a moan so soft Margaery almost thought she'd imagined it. When she crooked her fingers upward the moan went loud. “I like the softness.” She pressed her thumb against Cersei's clit and slid her fingers in and out of her cunt, and with Cersei so quiet the wet, slurping grasp was loud and obscene. Margaery pulled at her own nipples with her free hand, finally had to push her hand down her pants and press her heel against herself in desperate need. She curled her fingers inside Cersei again, drawing out another long, low groan, and then pulled her fingers out and lifted them to Cersei's eager mouth. Her tongue was as wet and hot as the rest of her, and she licked Margaery's fingers clean in a way that made Margaery want to feel that tongue over every part of her body. 

“The bed would be more comfortable,” Margaery said, panting even though Cersei had barely touched her. 

Cersei looked at her from under heavy-lidded eyes. “I don't want comfort,” she said, dark and sharp, and then she rose up, pushing Margaery onto her back with only the force of her will. “You're not the only one who likes cunts,” she added, tugging Margaery's pants and throwing them behind her. She pulled aside Margaery's panties and then set her talented tongue to work and Margaery did not have Cersei's discipline because she was crying out within seconds as Cersei licked and tugged and dove in until Margaery's orgasm rocketed through her, heels pressed hard against Cersei's thighs as Margaery's whole body clenched and shuddered. 

One leg drooped down off the couch and Cersei shifted, climbed up Margaery's body, knees on each side of her chest, and stared down. It was like being claimed by a lustful goddess, a woman who knew every second of what she wanted and would convince her worshippers to do as she bid. 

Limp and buzzing though she was, Margaery would not be Cersei's to command. Not like this, not when she hadn't given Cersei that right yet. So she tugged her sated body up until she was sitting and Cersei was in her lap, their pubic bones pressed together. She pulled at Cersei's nipples, one and then the other, ran her hands down her side, the dip of her hips, the round curve of her ass, and pulled her in for a kiss, slow where Cersei tried to make it fast; soft where Cersei demanded hardness. 

“I don't want this,” Cersei said, nipping at Margaery's neck. 

“Then you can leave.” She held Cersei in place and kissed the shell of her ear, the fluttering pulse in her throat. 

Cersei stilled in Margaery's arms and she paused, her lips a breath away from Cersei's collarbone. It was easy to wait now that she'd gotten through that first, desperate orgasm. She could wait all night to have Cersei slowly, to make the most of what would likely be their only night together. 

Then, soft lips at her ear, Cersei whispered, “please,” and Margaery shivered with the weight of it, felt it down in the center of her, and shoved her fingers between them to rub hard at Cersei's clit. The other woman pulled back for a moment to give her room and then pressed her temple to Margaery's shoulder, but before she did there was gratitude written all over her sweaty, beautiful face, and it shook Margaery to her core. 

Trapped between the swelling urge to clasp Cersei softly to her chest and the unbound desire to fuck her hard against a wall, Margaery rubbed one hand soothingly up and down Cersei's back while the other pinched and pulled and slid rough between the slippery folds of Cersei's cunt, until Cersei's orgasm escaped her with a high, keening sound that reverberated between them. 

“Fuck,” Margaery whispered as Cersei trembled once, almost violently, in her arms and then went still, her hand trapped between them. They lay entwined for a heartbeat or two and then Cersei was sitting up and Margaery remembered what Brienne had told her about her experience. “Wait,” she said, as Cersei reached for her clothes. Cersei hesitated, but then bent and grabbed them. 

“Where's the bathroom?” she asked, looking just past Margaery's shoulder. 

“You don't have to go.” 

“I do. My children-”

“Aren't with you tonight.”

Cersei pressed her lips together, looked around the apartment. “I'll find it myself,” she said, and backed away, going around the opposite edge of the couch, the distance between them growing fast and wide.

“Staying a few minutes doesn't mean forever,” Margaery said to Cersei's back, watched it go rigid and tense as her step stuttered for a minute. But she fled in silence to the bathroom. 

Margaery pulled her bra off, leaving just her open shirt and panties on while she drank the rest of her wine. After several minutes, Cersei re-emerged, clothes neatly arranged, hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. Her lips were muted pink, the lipstick that Margaery was certain was all over her own face wiped away from Cersei's. They were polar opposites now, and though Cersei had returned, the gap between them felt wider than before. 

“I'll get you an invite list,” Cersei said, picking up her purse. 

“You didn't finish your wine.”

“I need to drive and I missed dinner.”

“I could make you some food.”

“I'm fine.” Cersei tugged the door open, paused in the entry and finally met Margaery's eyes. She looked, more than anything, regretful. “I hope this will not make our working together awkward.” 

Margaery laughed a little in disbelief. “That's what you're worried about?”

“Margaery-”

“It'll be fine. I've worked with people I had sex with before. I mean you're in love with your sister-in-law, it can't be any weirder than that.” 

Cersei's face darkened. “I am not in love with Brienne.”

“Then why are you running out of here like you're guilty?” Margaery finished off her wine and picked up Cersei's to drink. 

Instead of answering, Cersei left, slamming the door shut behind her. Margaery toasted the wood and downed the rest of Cersei's wine like a shot. “Fucking Loras and his stupid fucking ideas,” she muttered, pouring herself another glass. It was going to be a long night as she tried to convince her body and heart that she was done with Cersei Lannister, that she wouldn't be seeing that fierce look of gratitude in her dreams, or remembering what it felt like to hold her shaking body close even for a moment; she might as well be drunk for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this story finally earned its Explicit rating! I'm full of lies, apparently, as I got this chapter out much more quickly than I anticipated. Next chapter will take a bit longer; I've decided to spend one week on the JB AU and then one week on this and next week belongs to the other one.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised I was going to update once a month and by god I am updating once a month even if it's literally a month later. Heh. Anyway - there is almost no Cersei in this chapter of a fic about Margaery and Cersei, but some important discussions had to happen and also Olenna makes her first appearance so I hope you enjoy!

There was a text from Jaime when Margaery woke up the next morning, head fuzzy and hurting. 

'need a cake buddy u in?'

Margaery rubbed her temples and groaned. 'Where's your bride-to-be?' she texted back.

'lysa givin her 💩 4 missing work she cant make appt'

'What time?'

'2'

She sighed. 'Fine. Text me the address.'

Jaime sent a series of smiley and kissy face emojis in thanks and Margaery laughed a little before flopping back down into bed to try to sleep off the last of headache. 

When she woke she had the address of the cake shop and an email from Cersei that was strictly about work. Margaery remembered the feel of their bodies pressed together, how Cersei had rested her head against Margaery's neck and for a moment the heat had been pounding out of her heart and not just her body. 

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” Margaery groaned lustily. Loras had been a million percent wrong that having sex with Cersei would cure Margaery of anything. It had only made all of it worse because now she'd had a hands-on glimpse of all that Cersei was capable of, all the ways they could be good together in bed. She thought of sitting in the kitchen at Cersei's home, the kids content in the other room, and the way they'd talked of work at the kitchen table. They could be good outside of the bedroom, too. 

She ignored the email for now and spent the morning catching up on other Roses & Thorns work before getting ready to meet Jaime at the bakery. As she headed for the door, there was a text from Cersei.

'Did you get my email?'

Margaery glared at her phone. 'Yes.' she sent back, adding the period for emphasis.

'I want to get started, can you approve it?'

“Approve this,” Margaery muttered out loud. 'Approved' she texted. 

'Thank you.'

“You're not welcome.” The phone dinged again with another message from Cersei. 

'I don't love her.'

Margaery halted just outside her door. “What the fuck?” How did she even respond to that? 

'I'll be in touch with our first engagement reports soon' Cersei followed up like nothing had happened. 

The door across the way opened and Margaery's grandmother peered out. “Something going on with Cersei Lannister?” the old woman asked, eyeing her curiously. Olenna Tyrell owned Highgarden Towers and she'd had the top floor split up to make spacious apartments for all of her grandchildren, though all of them but Margaery had moved out. The other spaces were now rented out to friends of the family, but Olenna had insisted Margaery keep the apartment directly across from hers, which had the sometimes unfortunate side effect of making Margaery the recipient of all of the matriarch's nosiness. 

“Good afternoon, Grandmother,” Margaery said, ignoring her question and giving her a kiss on the cheek. 

“Are you off to see her?”

“I'm going to help Jaime pick the cake for their wedding.” 

Olenna scoffed. “It's just cake. Pick chocolate with berry filling and be done with it.” 

“Such a romantic.” 

“Romance is a waste. It just gets in the way of the reality of having to live with someone. They'll see that soon enough.” 

Margaery barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “You haven't seen them together, grandmother. Jaime and Brienne would make even you believe in romance.” 

“I'm an old woman, Margaery, I've seen plenty of romantic couples fall apart. Luthor and I made it work because we built an understanding, not because we were blinded by starry eyes.”

She knew she shouldn't, but Margaery couldn't stop herself. “People can have both,” she argued.

“Both?” Olenna tsked. “Still such a dreamy child. You think Cersei Lannister cares about romance? That woman knows what it takes to make a life. You work hard, you marry a decent enough oaf if you can, you bring up your children to carry on the name and money, and you taste the sweet success of outliving your husband.” Olenna cackled gleefully and Margaery sighed. 

“What if I wanted to marry a woman?”

“Then marry a decent woman. You can still have children, technology is amazing these days. But don't think romance will get you anything but heartache and disappointment, man or woman. Romance won't raise those children or make you money.” 

“No, but it makes those things worth doing,” Margaery said. “I have to go, I'm going to be late meeting Jaime. Love you, grandmother.” 

“Love you too, my dear.” Olenna grabbed her wrist and her grip was stronger than anyone would expect from such a short, wrinkled old woman. It matched the strength in her bright eyes. “I'm just trying to help you not get hurt, you know. You always want so much from people and they'll just disappoint you if you do.”

Margaery patted her hand and extricated herself, kissing her grandmother's cheek one more time before heading for the driver that was waiting to take her to the bakery.

**********

“Thanks again for doing this, I want it to be perfect for Brienne,” Jaime said once they were seated at the tasting counter and waiting for the baker to come back with the first samples.

“Always happy for free cake,” she laughed. “But you shouldn't worry so much. Brie doesn't care if you two are wearing paper bags and eating takeout as long as you're married at the end of it.”

Jaime smiled but he still looked worried. “I know she doesn't, but I want this to be everything she never expected she'd have.”

Margaery patted his shoulder. “Well I've got your back. Or your stomach as the case may be.” 

They tried ten different cake samples and she and Jaime debated the merits of chocolate versus vanilla cake, what kind of flavors it should be, how much and what type of frosting until Margaery's stomach was full and her tongue was burning from too much sugar.

“Give us a few more minutes,” Jaime told the baker, who nodded and disappeared into the back again. There was no one else in the shop. Margaery tasted the pink champagne cake one more time, mulling it over. 

“I don't know,” she said, gesturing at the half-eaten slices. “It's too much cake.” 

“We can pick different flavors for different layers. Can you settle on a top five at least?”

“How big is this cake going to be?”

“Big. Have you seen the guest list? Father's gone a bit overboard.” 

Margaery tried the hazelnut almond and nodded thoughtfully. “You guys should just elope.” 

“I tried to convince her but she said it would make both of our families happy so we should just suck it up.” Jaime shook his head and pouted and it was still somehow endearing on him. “I just want to be married.” 

“What's going to change? You're already living together.” 

“I guess it just...” he poked at the key lime that they'd both already said no to. “It means she's less likely to realize how out of her league I am.” 

Margaery laughed, startled, and Jaime glared at her. “Sorry,” she said, pressing her fingers to her mouth. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, okay, sorry. Man, you two even match each other on your worrying. It's kind of disgusting.” Jaime looked confused but then they heard the door and she could tell in an instant it was Brienne just by the way his face shifted, transforming from mopey and upset to angelically beautiful with happiness. 

“Brienne,” he said, leaping to his feet to give her his seat, even though there were plenty along the counter. They kissed, tender and sweet and just a hint of the heat that was always between them. 

“Ugh,” Margaery groaned. “You saw each other this morning.” 

“I didn't think you'd show up,” Jaime said, resting his hands on Brienne's shoulders once she'd sat down next to Margaery. 

“Lysa was making so many snide comments about my being gone for wedding stuff that I decided I may as well go anyway and earn them.” 

“Fuck her,” Jaime said cheerfully, sitting down on Brienne's other side. Brienne grinned and stared at the row of cakes. 

“Any choices yet?”

“No key lime,” Margaery and Jaime said together, and Brienne laughed. 

“Noted.” 

They walked her through the flavors, Jaime and Margaery both making suggestions, Brienne tasting and nodding thoughtfully while Jaime watched her lips with hungry eyes. Margaery wondered what it would be like to have Cersei that devoted to her. She wondered if Cersei had ever watched Brienne the same way. 

“Margaery?”

She blinked, startled. They were both looking expectantly at her. “Uh, sorry. What?”

“I asked if you thought the ganache on this was too much.” Brienne glanced at Jaime and he abruptly stood. 

“I'm gonna go hit the bathroom. Too much water between cake.” He kissed Brienne on the temple and hurried off. Margaery rolled her eyes. 

“You two are not smooth. You can follow him if you want, just keep the noise down.” 

Brienne blushed bright red. “That's not what's happening,” she said, laughing a little. “Though he did suggest it. I wanted to talk to you. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, I just...” _I had sex with your future sister-in-law and accused her of being in love with you and I'm worried I might be a little bit in love with her myself_ would have been the truth. “I had a lot of cake.”

“I know the wedding has kind of eaten my life but if something is wrong, I'm here for you.” 

“I know.” Margaery pursed her lips together. She desperately wanted to talk this out with Brienne and if it had been about anyone but Cersei she would have already. Maybe it was time to bring her best friend in on her love life problems. “Actually-”

“Back!” Jaime announced before he sauntered in, stalling when they both turned to glare at his interruption. “Uh.”

“You two have this under control now,” Margaery said, rising from the chair. “I should go.” 

“You don't have to,” Brienne said quietly. 

“I know. I'll call you tonight.” 

“I'll be waiting to hear from you.” Brienne stood too, towering over her, and enveloped Margaery in a tight hug. “Please call,” she whispered into Margaery's ear, and Margaery felt tears spring unexpectedly to her eyes. 

“I will. I promise.” She gave Jaime a quick hug and could feel them watching her as she hurried from the bakery.

**********

By the time evening hit, Margaery had changed her mind about calling Brienne. Her friend would be pissed that she didn't call, but she'd forgive her soon enough; the inability to hold a well-earned grudge was one of Brienne's few faults, in Margaery's opinion, but she didn't mind taking advantage of it sometimes.

As she sat in her dark living room eating leftovers from dinner a few nights ago and watching reruns of Mother of Dragons, there was a knock at her door. 

“I'm busy, grandmother,” she called.

The door unlocked and Margaery regretted, not for the first time, that her grandmother had a key to the place. 

“Grandmother, I said-” but it was Brienne who stood looking awkward in her doorway, holding a plastic bag with styrofoam containers in it. 

“I was worried you wouldn't call,” she said, “so I bribed Olenna to let me in.” 

Olenna appeared from behind Brienne, having been totally hidden by her big body. “She got me macaroni and cheese from Walda's! You know how much I love her macaroni and cheese but I hate going to their restaurant. So dreary.” 

“I know, grandmother,” Margaery said. 

“Well. Enjoy.” Olenna held up her little container and scurried back to her own apartment as Brienne shut the door to Margaery's. 

“I wasn't sure if you'd eaten,” Brienne said, setting the bag of food on the coffee table and sitting down on Margaery's couch. 

“I have but it wasn't Walda's.” They parceled out the comfort food – roasted potatoes and turkey covered with gravy, thick biscuits, and more of the famed mac and cheese – and settled in with their plastic containers and forks for a minute. 

“Were you going to call?”

Margaery chewed and shook her head, no. “It's not that big of a deal.” 

“Then it should be easy to tell me.”

“You've got plenty to worry about, you don't need this.”

“I need you.” Brienne lowered her container and Margaery felt the full weight of her friend's love, as warm and comforting as the food. “Jaime thinks something happened between you and Cersei.” 

“You could say that,” Margaery replied evasively. 

“I know you two have had to spend more time together because of the wedding prep, and I just want to be sure I'm not making anything harder for you.”

“Weeellllllll,” Margaery drawled. She took another bite of mac and cheese and had to admit her grandmother was right: Walda's made the best in all of King's Landing. She wondered if Cersei would enjoy it, too, or if mac and cheese was too pedestrian for her tastes. 

“We can make sure you and Cersei don't have to interact again, not even at the bachelorette party. I don't need a big to-do anyway, just a night of movies with you would be a wonderful time.” 

Margaery smiled at her friend's concerned face, knowing she couldn't drag out Brienne's worry any longer just because she was afraid to confront the lion in the room. “It's not that at all. We kind of have the opposite problem, or, rather, I do. Cersei and I, uh, had sex.” 

Brienne's mouth dropped open and then her whole face lit up. “Finally!”

“Wait, what?”

“I knew you two were interested in each other ever since that housewarming party. My gods, I told Jaime if you didn't figure this out by the time we were back from our honeymoon I was going to step in myself.”

“Hold on. You're not surprised? Or mad?”

“Why would I be mad? You're clearly both attracted to each other, you should enjoy yourselves.”

“We had sex one time. And she left in a hurry afterward.” 

“She did that with me, too,” Brienne said and Margaery tried to ignore the twist in stomach at the words. “Has Cersei said anything since you were together?”

_I don't love her_ sprang to mind, but Margaery had no idea how to share that with her friend without revealing her own jealousy over their sexcapades together. “Just for work,” she said, which was at least mostly true. 

“Did it not...go well?”

Margaery thought of Cersei arched tight as a bowstring against her, the way she'd shaken apart for a moment under Cersei's tongue. “No it went well. I just wonder if Cersei is ready for a relationship. With anyone. Ever.” 

“A relationship?” Brienne's eyebrows were high on her head in shock. “With Cersei?”

“Yes with Cersei. _That's_ the part that surprises you?”

“I mean relationships are not really your thing and Cersei is...complicated.” 

“No shit,” Margaery said grumpily. 

Brienne reached over, squeezed Margaery's arm gently. “This is a whole different story, then.”

“This is a whole different _genre_.” 

“When did it happen?”

“Last night.” 

Brienne laughed sharply and then coughed on her food, pounding her chest until her breathing had cleared. “Gods, Margaery, you have to give her more time than that. She's not like you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you're fearless. You're willing to jump into anything if it's what you want, and jump back out again when it's hurting you. Cersei will jump, but she has to take her time, consider it from every angle. Especially now that she's on her own. Her heart has been locked away for a long time, I'm not even sure she knows where the key is anymore.” Margaery exhaled, and knew Brienne was right. Cersei needed to feel in total control of her life now more than ever; Margaery would have to convince her that letting go wasn't going to hurt anything. She had to make Cersei trust her. 

“Are you ready for a relationship?” Brienne asked quietly. “This isn't just because of me and Loras?”

“Loras asked me that same thing. It's not. I don't want to just do this with anybody, it's her in particular. She's so elegant and smart and challenging. And she's great with her kids. And she's good at her job. Why wouldn't I want to spend more time with her?” Brienne smiled a little in a knowing way that grated on Margaery's nerves. “What?”

“Just you sound like you're half in love with her already.”

“I hardly know her,” Margaery muttered. 

“Mm. I hope you'll be a little careful, for both your sakes. Cersei is more fragile than she appears, and so are you.”

“You should talk. How careful were you with your heart?”

“Careful enough to be sure of Jaime.”

“Liar. You were in love with him weeks before you told him that.” 

Brienne sighed and nodded her head. “You're right. Hearts are dumb. So I guess what I should say is make sure of hers before you put yours on the line. When you love someone you do it with all of you and I don't want you to lose any of that to her.” 

“It's getting late,” Margaery said, swallowing down the sudden lump in her throat. “Don't you have work tomorrow?”

“Margaery.” Margaery stared down at Brienne's big hand covering hers. “If any of the wedding stuff gets too hard, if you need to pull back to protect yourself, please tell me, okay? I would ruin my own wedding day for you.” 

Margaery squeezed Brienne's hand with both of hers, and then leaned forward to hug her friend tightly. “You're the best, Brie. There is maybe one thing you could do for me?”

“Anything. What is it?”

“Could you give some clues about what she really likes in bed? It might help give me a head start to know.” 

Brienne's laugh echoed around the apartment, but they stayed up another hour while she shared her secrets. By the time Brienne left, Margaery felt armed and eager to see Cersei again. If she had to fuck Cersei into loving her, well by the gods she was willing to do it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have made a deal with myself that before I can start posting my Formula 1 Jaime/Brienne AU that I have to finish this first so I'm hoping to get a chapter a week done here because this fic is honestly super fun to write when I am not distracted by JB. I might need four instead of three more chapters to finish this, but it depends on how the next two chapters go, so I'll update if I need to, but that will definitely be it.

“Thank you again for inviting me, Brie,” Margaery said as they walked towards the restaurant where the Lannister twins waited for them. 

“Just trying to help,” Brienne said with a grin so sly Margaery knew she was channeling Jaime. It looked adorably out of place on her friend's too-honest face. 

“Does she know I'm coming, too?”

“Jaime was supposed to tell her on the drive over.”

“So fifty-fifty.”

“Fifty-fifty,” Brienne agreed. “Let's find out, shall we?” She held the door open and ushered Margaery ahead of her. 

They were at a local haute cuisine place strongly recommended by Jaime's father, to try the food and pick something out for the wedding meal. Brienne had grumbled to Margaery that she'd rather just serve everyone Walda's but Tywin was paying and she felt it was wrong to not even give the place a try. Margaery thought Tywin should shut his mouth, put up the money, and be glad he was even invited to the wedding considering everything she'd heard third-hand about the man. 

The maitre d' ushered them to a secluded room and by the look on Cersei's face, Jaime had not in fact told her Margaery would be joining them. Margaery glared at him and he shrugged with a sheepish grin. 

The room had a table for six, and Cersei and Jaime were together on one side of it, a pair of golden monarchs awaiting their meals. Even Jaime, for as goofy as Margaery had discovered he was in his heart, still had the bearing of someone naturally expecting that the world was attuned to his every need. She supposed it was, given how he looked and how much money he had. _Thank goodness for Brienne_ , she thought. The man would be insufferable without her, and his head-over-heels adoration and utter devotion to his beloved was in many ways his best quality. 

Some would say that Cersei did not have the same mitigating factors to her inborn haughtiness, but Margaery suspected that the twins shared more than just their good genes and the occasional woman. She had seen Cersei with her children, had seen Cersei on the verge of letting something dark and vulnerable loose in Margaery's apartment. Margaery just had to convince Cersei that she could make a space safe enough for her to let go of the anxious animal of her heart. 

Brienne took the head of the table next to Jaime so Margaery took the other seat opposite her, next to Cersei. Cersei was wearing tight black pants, a simple white top, and white strappy sandals that showcased her beautiful feet. Margaery had never been into feet before, but Cersei's were loofahed and manicured to perfection. 

“I didn't know you'd be here, too,” Cersei said when Margaery sat down, and it wasn't the worst thing she'd heard from someone she'd recently slept with, but it was up there. 

“Don't let me put you off your dinner,” Margaery retorted. Cersei blinked, looking as surprised as Margaery had ever seen her. 

“I'm sure Cersei just meant it was a happy surprise,” Jaime jumped in. “She's bad at communicating.” 

“My entire job is communications, Jaime.”

“Marketing isn't communicating, it's manipulating. That, you excel at.” 

Cersei gave an expressively annoyed eyeroll and turned to Brienne. “Do you know what they'll be serving tonight?”

“A lot of small dishes so we can taste test and pick what we want. I was thinking an appetizer, a choice of soup or salad, some sort of meat dish and a vegetarian dish, and then we'll have cake of course.” 

“No wonder you invited me,” Cersei said, waving her hand airily. “You'll need at least four different appetizers, soup _and_ salad for everyone, and a choice between fish, meat, or vegetarian for guests. Also an after-dinner palette cleanser before the cake, don't you agree Margaery?”

Startled by Cersei actively including her, Margaery nodded a little. “You might as well spend as much of Tywin's money as you can. It's not like he's going to do this again.” The table went quiet and Margaery mentally kicked herself when she looked at Cersei and saw the other woman staring intently at her napkin. “I just meant Tyrion is likely to run off and elope, not go through this whole nonsense. And whoever Cersei marries again,” she added, her mouth engaging without talking to her brain first, “if she does, is just as likely to pay for it. Because I'm sure she'll find someone with a lot of money. Not because she's marrying someone just for money of course. Just whoever she is, I mean he is, or they are, would be happy to do whatever Cersei wanted if she even wanted to get married again, which maybe she doesn't.” Margaery pressed her lips together and choked down any additional babble, staring with wide, desperate eyes at Brienne across the table. 

Brienne was staring at Margaery like her head had popped off and was just randomly floating around the table spouting dumb bullshit, which was not far from what had happened. 

“I need to use the restroom, excuse me,” Margaery said, standing abruptly and heading for the door. She heard another chair scrape back and then Brienne say, “I should show her where it is, I'm not sure she's been here before.” 

Margaery didn't stop until she'd gotten into the restroom, which was a sitting room up front with velvet-cushioned chairs and a quiet and tastefully decorated row of stalls and sinks in the second room. She threw herself into one of the chairs and Brienne came in a moment late, only a few footsteps behind. Her friend lowered herself into one of the other chairs and the size and color of it suited her so perfectly for a moment she looked like a worried queen. 

“I'm not really sure what happened back there,” Brienne said hesitantly. 

“I lost control of my mouth.” 

“That is the least smooth I have ever seen you. You've literally thrown up more in control than that.” 

“I know,” Margaery moaned. “It's Cersei! She makes me feel like a gawky teenager whenever I'm near her.” 

“She's just being herself,” Brienne said gently. 

“Well herself is so...her.” 

“I think maybe you're putting too much pressure on yourself. Cersei doesn't need someone to out-Cersei her. She needs someone like you.” 

“Bad at relationships and easily discombobulated by powerful women?”

Brienne laughed a little. “Someone who fights for the people she loves.”

An old woman walked by and looked Brienne up and down disdainfully. “Is your neck broken or are you just always this rude in bathrooms?” Margaery snapped at her, and the woman flushed and hurried off. 

Brienne squeezed Margaery's knee. “Let go back. I'll bet you can at least make it past the appetizers this time.” 

Margaery snorted. “Your faith in me is misplaced but appreciated.” 

It turned out that when they returned the appetizers had already been served, which gave Margaery a good head start, and also let them all move on as though nothing weird had happened just minutes before. Even better, Cersei continued to ask for Margaery's opinion on taste and presentation of food all night, until by the post-dinner palette cleanser they were working together like a well-oiled wedding planning team while Brienne and Jaime held hands and watched them work out the final menu. 

Cersei finished writing down her thoughts and shoved the small pad of paper Margaery's way for final review. She'd listed everything down to the types of wine to be served with each course. 

“You could take this up as a side job,” Margaery said, impressed. 

“I planned a lot of dinners for my ex-husband,” Cersei responded, and though she seemed unmoved by the compliment, she did seem to sit up a little straighter in her chair after. 

They settled with the chef, pointed the management at Tywin's pocketbook to pay, and headed for the door, chattering idly with each other about which of the foods they'd enjoyed most that evening. 

“I'm glad we only have two more weeks. I cannot wait to have more of that soup,” Jaime said. 

“I am all about those pear and goat cheese appetizers,” Margaery sighed. “Order me my own tray.” 

Brienne tugged her jacket tighter around herself as a group of young, pretty women walked by, giving Jaime lingering stares. He slipped his arm around Brienne's waist and kissed her soundly in response, and though her cheeks were red with embarrassment when he was done, she looked so happy Margaery felt her eyes grow hot. Her grandmother was wrong, these two were going to have a long, happy, romantic marriage and Margaery couldn't be happier for them. She glanced at Cersei to see if she felt the same, but Cersei was staring directly at her, an invitation flaring in her eyes. Margaery's mouth went dry. 

“Jaime,” Cersei said, glancing briefly his way, “I can take Margaery home for you so you and Brienne don't have to make an extra stop.” 

“It's no troub-oof!” Jaime coughed and gingerly rubbed his side where Brienne's elbow suddenly was. “Thanks, Cers,” he said. 

Margaery gave them both a hug, whispered a thank you to Brienne that she returned by squeezing Margaery tighter, and then the pair were off down to Jaime's car, arm-in-arm, eyes only for each other, while Margaery and Cersei stood a foot apart on the sidewalk. 

“My car is this way,” Cersei said, turning the opposite direction. Margaery walked silently next to her, got into the passenger seat without a word after throwing one of Tommen's stuffed toys in the back. She shifted in her seat and watched Cersei as she drove, the lights flickering over her smooth features in a cascade of white and red and green. Each color seemed to highlight a different part of Cersei that Margaery wanted to kiss: the strong line of her jaw, the soft curve of her neck, her glistening lower lip. As they neared Margaery's apartment Cersei finally shifted her gaze enough to take Margaery in, and her eyes promised she would get a chance for all of it. 

They were still quiet when Cersei parked and got out of the car. There had been no verbal invite, but it felt natural to lead Cersei up to her door, feel the other woman's radiating heat behind her as she unlocked it and let them both in with fingers that tingled in expectation. Margaery didn't even have time to care if her apartment was messy, because as soon as the door had closed Cersei was against her, kissing her desperately. 

This was not the hard and aching need for release of the first time, but a hunger, as though they hadn't spent the night eating, as though food itself were not enough for Cersei to live. Margaery held onto Cersei as she sucked and licked and bit at Margaery's collarbone, her neck, her already tender lips. She wanted to push back, to turn them so it was Cersei's back hard against the door and Margaery driving Cersei's desire with a greedy mouth, but she realized, suddenly, the best way to make Cersei trust her was to give her that trust first. 

So she let Cersei have her way. 

Cersei seemed to sense Margaery's submission because she pulled back a little, chest already heaving, to search Margaery's eyes in the dim light of the entry way. “Where is your bedroom?” she asked, and Margaery pointed down the hall to the left. Cersei kissed her, a slow, lingering press of lips, and then pulled away and went down the hall. 

“Follow me,” she threw back over her shoulder. Margaery locked the front door and did as Cersei ordered. 

When she got to her bedroom Cersei was looking out the window at the clear view of King's Landing. They weren't nearly as high up as Jaime and Brienne's apartment, but she could see the river from here, and the lights of Aegon's Hill on a good night. Tonight was a good night. 

There was no one who could easily see into Margaery's bedroom, which was one of the main reasons she'd made this room her bedroom, so when Cersei started to tug the curtains closed Margaery covered her hand to stop her. 

“It's a beautiful night,” she said softly. “And I want to see.” 

Cersei hesitated. She was, Margaery suspected, a woman used to darkness. But the moon was only half-full, the shadows deep enough in her bedroom that it seemed to put her mind at ease as she looked around. 

“Very well,” Cersei said. “Undress me.” 

“I've been waiting to all night,” Margaery murmured, tugging Cersei's shirt free and over her head. As the white fabric passed over Cersei's face, Margaery thought she saw a hint of a smile. Cersei had on a simple, silky white bra underneath that had roses at each corner and for a fleeting, foolish second Margaery wondered if she'd gotten that just because it reminded Cersei of her. Leaving the bra and her romantic notions for now, Margaery undid Cersei's pants and slipped them down her beautifully shaped legs, letting Cersei step smoothly out of them and her sandals. “Lay down,” Margaery urged, and Cersei crossed to the bed as elegantly as the moonlight that spilled across the floor. 

Margaery had never been with someone so sure of their own appeal, so certain of what they wanted done to and for them in bed and she had to admit it was almost a relief to remove Cersei's bra and panties and wait for her to direct them both to the next step. She loved having that control herself, but she'd never understood until now, Cersei naked before her, what power there was in giving that control to someone she trusted to use it well. Margaery was already wet, her thighs clenching as she waited for whatever Cersei wanted from her. 

“Take your clothes off,” Cersei commanded next, and Margaery undressed quickly while Cersei watched her and touched herself with long fingers splayed on her breasts and plucking at her hardening nipples. “Good,” she said when Margaery was naked, too, standing at the edge of the bed and nearly trembling with the need to do whatever was next. 

Cersei pulled her legs up a little and spread them wide, and her cunt was wet and soft pink in the moonlight. “I want you to use your mouth on me,” she said. “No fingers. I want you to fuck me with your tongue.” 

Margaery swallowed hard and nodded, kneeling on the bed. She ran her hands down Cersei's legs and pressed them wide before burying her face in Cersei's cunt. Cersei's orgasm came shockingly quick; Margaery had spent only a minute probing Cersei with her tongue, pressing her nose against Cersei's clit and sucking down her juices as her own unique after-dinner palette cleanser before Cersei was gasping and her hands were wrapped in the pale purple bedspread and her thighs were tight against Margaery's hands. 

She licked Cersei's folds once more and then lifted her head. Her own body was trembling with an ache at her core, a pulsating heat desperate for Cersei's cool touch. But she was giving this night over to Cersei willingly, and she'd pull out a vibrator later if she needed to. 

Cersei, however, had other plans. 

“Get on your knees,” she said, breathless and gasping. “Against the wall.” 

Margaery felt a small shiver roll through her, but though Cersei looked intense, there was no cruelty in her, just command and a need that had only barely been quenched. She followed Cersei's directions, until she was kneeling at the head of the bed with her front pressed against the cold wall and Cersei hot and hard against her back. The contrast of the two met in Margaery's middle and she shuddered when Cersei's hand squeezed between them, slipped between the line of her ass and pressed gentle at the hole there before moving further down and forward. Cersei's fingers slid into Margaery's cunt as smoothly as though they were made for it and she gasped against the wall and clenched hard around Cersei's fingers inside her. 

“Do you want more?” Cersei whispered in her ear, and Margaery could only press her burning forehead against the wall and nod mutely. She shut her eyes and Cersei was everywhere – her scent in Margaery's lungs, her taste on Margaery's lips, the feel of her breasts against Margaery's back, her fingers, three now, deep inside and questing further. 

Quiet became the last thing Margaery was capable of as Cersei's fingers found what they were looking for and she fucked her with her hand, her thumb slick and rubbing along the edge of Margaery's asshole with each movement, her body pressing Margaery against the wall to make her nipples rub relentlessly against it. The sensation was too much, an onslaught from every angle, and it felt like the way Cersei seemed to be in every part of her life now, too, until it seemed impossible that Margaery would feel anything, touch anything that didn't somehow come back to Cersei. 

“I don't love her,” Cersei whispered fiercely in Margaery's ear and the sound of her voice, her hot breath ricocheting off to brush back against Margaery's cheek was enough to send her over the edge and fall apart entirely in Cersei's arms, her screams only muffled by pressing her face against her own arm grasping urgently at the wall. 

Cersei fucked her through all of it until Margaery's shouts became whimpers, and then she slid her fingers out and kissed Margaery once, gently, on the shoulder before pulling away. Slumping down, Margaery tried to catch her breath enough to say something, but she felt Cersei climb off the bed before she was able to even put a word together. 

When she opened her eyes, Cersei was grabbing the last of her clothes and heading for the bathroom door. 

“I believe you,” she said to Cersei's sweat-covered back, and her shoulders went taut as she hesitated for a moment in the doorway, turning her head so the shadows lingered affectionately on her profile. It was enough that Cersei nodded once before closing the bathroom door behind her. 

When she came out again, Margaery had pulled on a silk robe and gone to the living room to wait with a single glass of wine for herself. Cersei took her and the glass in and the mixture of want and relief in her eyes made Margaery's heart break a little for the other woman. Margaery gave her a small smile and lifted the glass in a toast. 

“I'll see you later,” she said. 

“Yes, later.” Cersei licked her lips and Margaery tried to be as undemanding as a still pond, but it was hard to ignore the drumbeat of _stay, please stay_ that beat on her tongue. “Thank you,” Cersei said hoarsely, as though the words came at a cost. 

“You don't have to thank me.” _You only have to stay._

But Cersei left instead, and Margaery stayed up for another hour wondering if she would ever convince Cersei she was enough.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're rolling now! I've got the last two chapters all plotted out so hopefully I'll get them up more quickly, too.

Margaery thought she deserved an award for not immediately texting Cersei that night or even the next day. _I have restraint_ , she thought proudly. _Buttloads of restraint._

When three days passed with nothing from Cersei, not even a work-related email, her buttloads were suddenly empty. Instead she called Brienne. 

“Hi Margaery.”

“We had sex again,” Margaery said without preamble.

“Okay. You know I'm at work, right?”

“Are you on speaker?”

“No, but you-know-who has been complaining about me lately. Hold on, let me find a stairwell.” There were the sounds of movement, a murmured word from a voice Margaery didn't recognize, a door opening and closing again, and then Brienne: “alright, so what happened?”

“We had sex again and she hasn't contacted me once. Not even for work.”

“Did you try to contact her?”

“I was showing restraint.”

Margaery could hear Brienne's smile. “That's admirable of you.” 

“I know, right? Brie, I can't stop thinking about her. I don't have any good reason to talk to her for work and I don't want to scare her off with a personal message. What should I do?”

“The bachelorette party is Saturday, do you need to talk to her about that?”

“That's brilliant,” Margaery gasped. “Of course, I could call to confirm that. Thanks, Brie! Tell Lysa to fuck off for me!” She hung up while Brienne was still laughing. 

“Okay,” Margaery breathed out into her empty apartment. “Time to call Cersei.” She looked down at her phone and bit her bottom lip. “Or text Cersei.”

'Hey' she typed, cringing even as she hit the send button. 

After a minute Cersei sent back 'Hello'

“Contact achieved,” Margaery muttered. She settled back on her couch. 'Checking in on the party this weekend. All good?'

'Yes.'

“Very helpful, Cersei, thank you.” Margaery shook her head and tried to think of something else to say, but then Cersei was typing again and another message popped up. 

'You can come over early to help if you want.'

'Sure,' Margaery typed quickly. 'See you then.'

'I look forward to it.'

Margaery squinted at the text, trying to ascertain what meaning was behind the simple sentence. Did Cersei mean she was looking forward to the party? Or to seeing Margaery? Was there a way she could ask that wouldn't make her seem unbelievably desperate for attention? Did she care? 

She decided in the end she did care, so simply typed 'Me too' and left it alone for the next three days. 

By the time Saturday arrived, Margaery's insides were twisted into so many knots – excitement and nerves and horniness and worry all in a very nauseating mix – that the only thing she ate that day was a handful of cereal to go with her coffee. She took a long bath with her own Roses & Thorns bath bomb and carefully got herself ready for the party with the seriousness of a soldier preparing for war. 

They hadn't clarified how far ahead of time she should arrive, so she aimed for thirty minutes, suspecting Cersei wasn't going to want to have sex right before everyone was coming to her house, but enough time that they could if Margaery was wrong. Margaery heard Cersei's voice even before she knocked on the door. 

“-don't know where it is,” she was saying as she opened the door. Margaery barely contained a low whistle of appreciation at how she looked in a rose gold sequined dress that brushed the tops of her thighs as she moved, and when she turned to lead Margaery into her apartment, Margaery could see the thin straps that went over the shoulders thickened and separated in the back to perfectly frame the long line of Cersei's back. Cersei had her hair swept up and wore sparkling earrings that matched the dress perfectly. Margaery looked down at her own tight black mini dress, picked for the way it pushed her boobs to the forefront and made her own legs look much longer than they actually were, and shrugged as she followed Cersei inside and shut the door behind them. 

“You didn't leave it here,” Cersei said, standing in the living room with one hand on her hip. “I looked everywhere, darling.” A high-pitched wail erupted from the phone and Cersei flinched. “Darling, please. We'll find it. I'm sure it's at your father's.” The wailing did not get quieter and Cersei looked drawn and sad. “I'm sorry. I know you love Mr. Lion. I'm sure he's there. Can you please put your father on the phone? I need to help him find Mr. Lion for you.” The wailing got quieter and Cersei darted a look at Margaery before turning and walking into the kitchen. 

Margaery stared around the living room that Cersei had already re-arranged the furniture for so they could all sit in a circle together and giggle over sex toys and lingerie. 

“Robert,” came Cersei's voice from the kitchen, sharp and upset. “You know he loves that lion, how could you lose it?” Margaery tried not to listen, but it was impossible in the quiet space. “I know I sent him with it. Because he would have called the first day if he'd left it here. How can you not remember seeing it in your house for two weeks?”

Margaery grunted, nodding along with Cersei. 

“Tommen needs to be comforted, this is much harder on him than on us. He actually misses you.” Margaery hissed; that was a deadly strike. “I am not turning our children against you – you saw how excited they were when you picked them up. But that doesn't mean when it's just us I have to pretend to like you. You don't pay attention, Robert. You never did. You put all the things you didn't like on me and took only the good parts of everything else. We're not married any more and I don't have to put up with it. Either find Tommen's lion or buy him a vat of ice cream, but if they're going to stay with you, you have to be responsible for all of it, not just the fun things.” 

Retroactively Margaery hated Robert on Cersei's behalf. They'd met a few times becomes of Renly and he'd always just seemed unoffensive besides being too loud and too much, but now that she knew what he'd been like as a husband and father, she shoved him firmly over to the Dislike column. 

“Put Joffrey on the phone, please,” Cersei said, and her voice was heavy with exhaustion, which she hid when she talked to her son. “Hello darling. Will you please look under Tommen's bed, I'm sure Mr. Lion just fell somewhere and got lost. And if not, promise him ice cream until your father takes you out. Give them a hug for me, will you? I miss you all so much.” The ache in Cersei's voice was like a bludgeon. “I'll see you tomorrow. I love you. Goodbye.” 

Margaery sat down on the couch and fiddled with one of the strings of hanging penis lights they'd gotten to decorate with. She waited for Cersei to compose herself, and started pulling the decorations out of the box Cersei had tidily packed them into, laying them on the floor. There were vagina lights, too, and erotic confetti and even famous Myrish sex position silhouettes they were going to hang up everywhere. By the time she'd laid it all out, Cersei emerged from the kitchen. She looked as though nothing had happened, but her eyes were red. 

“Where do you want the vagina lights?” Margaery said, opting to give Cersei space. 

The tension seemed to drain from Cersei's golden shoulders and she took the string in hand, looking around the room. “I think over this chair where Brienne should sit,” she said, and they got to work decorating, talking about where to put things, asking each other for help, and just generally ignoring the elephant – or in this case the Mr. Lion – in the room. 

They finished five minutes before the official start of the party, the room a cheerful, naughty-themed space with the regular lights turned low and the penis lights gleaming. Cersei had brought out several bottles of wine and a beautiful plate of appetizers that Loras had delivered earlier that day. 

“Did Loras say anything when he came by?” Margaery asked casually as she arranged the cheeses. 

“He warned me not to be cruel to you,” Cersei said and Margaery choked a little. 

“What?!”

“I assume he knows we have had sex.”

“Well, yes. But I didn't-”

“It's all right. I have a brother, too.”

Margaery sighed. “Yeah. Hey, if you need to talk about anything, I can be a good listener.”

“I appreciate that.” Cersei said, sitting under the vagina lights on the edge of the chair that they'd covered in penis confetti and taped a 'Bride-to-be!' sign on. It was so incongruous to see her looking so unusually sad and worn in a space they'd decorated to make people laugh. Margaery was startled when Cersei actually started talking, and she stilled, watching the other woman. “We were not good at co-parenting even when we were living together. It's gotten even harder with space.”

“Your kids seem happy,” Margaery offered, tentative. “Even from the little I've seen them.”

“They are, but divorce is hard nonetheless. Robert expects them to be exactly as they were. Tommen's gotten very attached to one particular stuffed animal. He was holding it when we told them about the divorce.” Cersei toyed idly with one of the straws with the penises on the end. “At night he never lets it go and Robert doesn't understand that he's only three and he needs the stability. He doesn't know what it's like when a parent goes away when you're young.” 

Margaery remained quiet, not sure what she could even say. She knew Jaime and Cersei had lost their mother when they were little, that her death had changed all of their lives and even who they were in many ways. 

“I don't know what it's like either,” Margaery finally said, and Cersei looked at her with eyes as sharp and curious and green as a cat's. “But I know neither of you have gone away forever, and your kids know that, too. They wouldn't call if they didn't trust you'd be there to answer.” 

Cersei went still, her mouth twisting like she was about to cry and Margaery wondered if she'd said the wrong thing. She didn't know what it felt like to be a mother; had she offended Cersei in some way? Except Cersei shifted over to the couch to sit next to her, and she cupped one cool hand on Margaery's face, brushing her thumb over her cheek. Margaery licked her lips, afraid to even breathe too hard for fear of scaring Cersei away. 

“Margaery Tyrell,” Cersei said, as though meeting Margaery for the very first time; as though she were _seeing_ Margaery for the very first time. She leaned forward fully into Margaery's space, and kissed her soft and slow. 

It took every ounce of willpower to sit there and let Cersei kiss her, to respond with just her lips opening under Cersei's patient tongue while her body throbbed and her hands ached to touch Cersei, to grip her sequined dress and not let go until they were both naked and wet. 

The doorbell rang once but Cersei kept kissing her and Margaery was fine with that, was willing to let Cersei's persistent heat drown out the noise and good sense. She couldn't take it anymore so she put her hands lightly on Cersei's hips and Cersei gasped against Margaery's mouth and pressed herself harder against Margaery until Margaery's cunt was aching for any part of Cersei – her hot tongue, her long fingers, the length of her thigh. 

The doorbell rang again and Cersei stilled, panting against Margaery's mouth. “The party is starting,” Cersei said, low and amused. 

“Let them wait,” Margaery breathed, moving to suck on Cersei's earlobe, to kiss the valley where her neck met her jaw. 

“Hello?” Brienne called from behind the door and Margaery sighed, was pleased when Cersei trembled at her breath across her skin. 

They pulled away from each other and Margaery had to laugh a little. Cersei's lips were swollen, her lipstick smeared, and there was a delightful flush creeping down her chest. Margaery was certain she looked much the same. 

“They're going to know what was going on in here,” Margaery said, and Cersei shrugged elegantly. 

“The night is about sex toys,” she said, going to the hallway mirror to wipe her lipstick back into place. “One moment,” she called to the door just as Brienne started to knock again. Margaery hurried for the bathroom and tidied herself while Cersei let Brienne in, though from the sounds of chattering that flowed down the hall, it was more than just her friend. 

“Everything alright?” she heard Brienne ask, but Cersei's answer was lost to the shrieking giggles of Gilly. Margaery emerged to find Brienne utterly red-faced as she stared at the chair, Gilly laughing delightedly, and Podrick beaming at the penis straws. 

“Happy sex toy bachelorette party!” Margaery called and Brienne covered her face, her shoulders shaking as she laughed. 

“I should never have let you plan this without me,” she said, hugging Margaery tightly. While they embraced she whispered “did we interrupt something?” 

“Yes but it's okay,” Margaery whispered back. 

Brienne let her go and Margaery nodded encouragingly at her. “It's your night, Brie. The penis throne is all yours,” she said, gesturing at the overstuffed, decorated chair. Brienne's laugh was so loud it almost hid the knocking on the door, which turned out to be Loras with Ygritte, who had brought the toys and lingerie for them to try. 

The night passed in a pleasantly fuzzy blur as the wine caught up to Margaery and her mostly empty stomach before the appetizers even had a chance. She wasn't the only one drunk by the time it was done; Podrick gamely tried on every piece of lingerie they'd thrown at him and Gilly kept showering everyone with penis confetti before spending fifteen minutes just staring at the sex position silhouettes like she was committing them to memory for later. Margaery knew Cersei had her share of wine, but the most she was showing it was high color in her cheeks, and eyes bright and shining as she tried on some of the lingerie. Whenever it was Cersei's turn to wear something, Margaery cheered loudest of all, and Cersei would look at her with something almost young and happy in her eyes. 

Eventually they all started to slow down and Margaery drunkenly texted Jaime 'COME GET UR WOMAN.' 

He showed up not too much after that, found them all howling over Brienne walking around with a string of anal beads circled on her head like a tiara, pretending like she was the Queen of Sex. Jaime watched from the doorway, looking so fucking besotted by his fiance that Margaery almost burst into tears. But then she did get more emotional when she was drunk, the love she had for her friends and family burning like a bright sun all through her body. Jaime picked Brienne up in his arms and the room whooped and cheered as he kissed her hungrily, the anal beads falling off her head to the floor. She wrapped her long arms around him and for a fleeting moment Margaery wondered if they were going to just have sex right there in the living room and whether she would stop them or not if they tried. But then Jaime pulled away, kissed Brienne tenderly on the forehead and turned to go, navigating the hallway carefully while Brienne waved over his shoulder at everyone. 

“Thank you!” she cried. “I love you all!” 

“Wait!” That was Podrick, who rushed forward with a big bag and hung it from Brienne's outstretched arm. “Don't forget your things.” 

“I love you the most,” she said solemnly to Podrick and Jaime laughed and carried her out of Cersei's apartment. 

The others followed shortly after: Podrick took a cab home, and Gilly left with Ygritte who, as the conductor of the evening's festivities, had only had water to drink and had space in her car for one more to drop off with Loras. By the time Cersei shut the door behind them as they drunkenly starting singing “The Bear and the Maiden Fair” in the hallway, Margaery was lying down on her couch staring up at the nearest sex silhouette and imagining herself and Cersei in the pose. 

Cersei appeared in her vision and Margaery turned her head, smiling happily at her. “Hi,” she said. 

“You're quite drunk.” She looked disappointed. 

“I'm not too drunk to fuck.” 

Cersei snorted and started cleaning up, taking a big stack of paper plates into the kitchen. Margaery frowned and stood slowly, pleased to find the world was not spinning, and followed Cersei into the kitchen. 

“You don't believe me,” she accused the other woman. 

“I don't,” Cersei said as she threw things away, made a neat line of the wine bottles. “And my living room is a mess so I may as well clean while you sleep it off on the couch, since you did drive here.” 

Margaery grabbed Cersei's arm as she tried to go by. “I bought the dildo for a reason.” 

“You are welcome to use it on yourself.”

“I want to use it on you,” Margaery said. She blinked back the fuzz at the edge of her vision. “You could at least kiss me and find out for yourself if I'm too drunk for this.” 

Cersei's lips parted and then she looked away. “I don't want there to be regret.”

“Cersei,” she said, and the other woman tensed at her name. “I want to be with you. How do you not see that yet? And if sex is the only way I can right now, then I'll take it.” 

It was so close to the full truth of what Margaery wanted that she was afraid she had said too much, but Cersei exhaled and suddenly grabbed Margaery close, crushing their lips together. 

The rest was a frenzy. They pulled each other's dresses halfway down and their bras off so they could have at each other's breasts, Cersei pulling and plucking Margaery's nipples, Margaery returning the favor as they panted into each other's mouths. 

“Up here,” Cersei demanded, pressing Margaery back against the counter of the island so the cold marble shocked her skin. She climbed up awkwardly, and Cersei helped her pull her minidress off until she was sitting in a thong with her ass freezing and the rest of her burning up from where Cersei was kissing her: her stomach, the inside of her thighs, the point of her ankle. 

“Shoes?” Margaery gasped.

Cersei shook her head. “Leave them.” She pulled aside the small scrap of underwear and licked Margaery deep and fast and then sucked her clit into the unbelievable heat of her mouth. Margaery barely held herself up on the counter as Cersei brought her to a screaming orgasm with her teeth and tongue, her legs over Cersei's shoulders, her thighs trapping Cersei's head. 

When the last tremor subsided, Cersei pulled back and let Margaery's legs drop. “Stay here,” she said and it wasn't like Margaery's legs were going to immediately work anyway so she laid back on the island and tried to slow her breathing. Enough time passed that Margaery started to wonder if Cersei was just going to leave her here, and then Cersei came back with her dress off and holding a strap-on and Margaery thought she might die from the sudden lightning bolt of desire that rocketed through her.

“Oh gods, yes, please,” Margaery whined, startling herself with how much she wanted it, the image of Cersei fucking her hard becoming the only thing she needed in life. 

Cersei looked down and took a breath. “Do you want to use it on me?” she asked quietly. 

No, wait, _that_ was the only thing she needed in life, Margaery realized. She pushed herself up and off of the island so quickly Cersei looked surprised. 

“More than I have ever wanted anything,” Margaery said truthfully, and Cersei smiled. It was small, and quickly overwhelmed by desire, but the pure, shining light of it made the whole kitchen seem brighter. Made her heart thump almost painfully in her chest. “Here?”

“My bedroom would be more comfortable.”

“Then lead the way.” 

Cersei handed her the strap-on and Margaery took it and readied it while she followed Cersei to her bedroom. The room smelled of Cersei, the dark scent of a carefully cultivated nighttime flower; it looked like her, too, all elegant lines and tasteful decorations. Margaery couldn't wait to mess it up a little. 

“How do you want me?” Cersei asked in the dim lighting and Margaery's mouth went dry. _In every position possible_ she thought. But she didn't want to push her luck. 

“Lay on your back. So I can look at you.” 

Silently Cersei did as Margaery commanded, and there wasn't the fight from the first time, there wasn't the desperation of the second. This time she was all need, a trembling eagerness in her golden limbs, her marble face soft and wanting. Margaery knelt between her legs and leaned down to kiss her gently, the dildo pressing hard between them. Cersei moaned against her, pressing her pelvis up, deepening the kiss. 

Margaery pulled back enough to position the dildo at Cersei's entrance. “You wouldn't believe how many times I've imagined this,” she said, rubbing her hands over Cersei's knees. 

“Did it get you off?”

“So many times,” Margaery said on a half-laugh. She pressed in a little and Cersei shuddered. “Lube?”

“Left side table.” 

She found the lube with speed, slathered it over the dildo and then re-positioned herself between Cersei's legs. 

“Cersei-”

“I want this,” she said in a voice thick with lust and something more. 

Margaery lifted Cersei's legs around her hips and pushed inside her and Cersei moaned low and deep, like she'd been waiting for it forever. She fucked Cersei with long, slow thrusts until Cersei was crying “Margaery” and “please” and “I need-” over and over, her body tight and coiled and demanding, asking, begging for Margaery to push just a little faster, a little harder, there, right there and then she was crying out, a noise from deep in her center that struck Margaery to her core until she was sliding in and out of Cersei's cunt recklessly, just as desperate and wanting, the stimulation sending her over the edge a second time. 

She trembled to a halt and slid the dildo back out before collapsing on her back next to Cersei on the bed, Cersei's heavy breathing loud in her ear. Margaery waited for the familiar shift of the bed that was Cersei standing, wondered if she would ask Margaery to leave or just stare at her until she did. 

Neither the shifting nor the staring came. Instead Cersei's breathing quieted and she turned over and turned off the lights and in the darkness she pressed her back, sweat still drying on the skin, against Margaery's side.

Well. 

Margaery blinked up at the dark ceiling. She was still wearing the strap-on and unlike a person with a real penis, this one was not getting any softer. If she moved, she chanced breaking the peace, but if she stayed she'd just be awake until her whole bottom half started to hurt. It couldn't last anyway; Margaery needed to pee and most likely Cersei was just waiting for her to get up and go. 

_Of course_ , Margaery realized. _She's expecting me to do what she does._

She sat up and slid her legs over the side of the bed, and Cersei rolled over. Margaery stood without a word, without even looking at her, taking the strap-on off and then going to the bathroom. She expected Cersei would be feigning sleep when she was done, if she wasn't standing impatiently at the door. Feeling petty and hurt, Margaery paused to wipe herself down with a warm washcloth and left it balled up in the sink as a reminder to Cersei that she had been here. Unlike Cersei, she'd left her clothes behind in the kitchen. Nothing like a naked walk of shame through the actual apartment of the woman you'd just fucked. 

Taking a breath to steel herself, Margaery opened the door, was surprised to find Cersei awake and sitting up in the bed. She'd opened the curtains so moonlight spilled in, illuminating the empty spot at her side. The blankets were turned down there, an invitation. 

Margaery caught Cersei's cautious gaze, held it as she moved purposefully to the bed and laid down next to her. A thousand words tumbled, ready, on her tongue, but she held them back and let the silence speak for her as she laid down next to Cersei. 

She fell asleep with her back pressed against Cersei's, their bodies breathing in time.

**********

Margaery woke to sunlight, the smell of coffee, and an empty bed. There was a glass of water and a note next to her on the bedside table and she stared at the latter like it was a snake.

Dry-mouthed and with a slight headache, Margaery drank the entire glass of water, went to the bathroom and splashed more water on her face, and made the bed before she finally read the note. 

_Had to run some errands. You can use the shower before you go.  
-Cersei_

Margaery crumpled up the note and threw it in the trash on her way out of the bedroom. She stomped around Cersei's apartment to find her clothes, drank a cup of the coffee from the pot Cersei had made, and then left the dirty mug on the island, a lone interloper in the otherwise entirely cleaned apartment. Cersei had apparently been up for awhile. Had, apparently, woke to find Margaery sleeping and decided if Margaery wasn't going to leave, she would have to instead. Well fuck that. Margaery was stubborn but she wasn't stupid. She wouldn't keep hurling herself at a door that would never budge. 

Margaery gathered her things and slammed the locked door shut behind her as she left Cersei Lannister behind. And if she wiped away tears the whole drive home, no one but her would ever have to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to ruin the mood but my search results are gonna be screwed up for weeks because of this bachelorette party research. So many penises.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say this: being sick the last two days has done wonders for my writing time.

Hurt and furious that morning, Margaery entirely forgot she was still working with Cersei on marketing for her business as she sulked in her apartment all day Sunday, her regular brunch with Loras and Brienne cancelled due to the party the night before. Monday was a sharp reminder, though, when she woke up to find four emails and two texts from Cersei about improvements Cersei had made to the campaign and reporting on the next round of social media blitz. 

Margaery closed her laptop, turned off her phone, and binge-watched back seasons of Mother of Dragons for twelve hours instead of replying. 

Tuesday the emails and texts were still there and there were more of them asking for Margaery's input. She went for a long, disconnected walk instead and then binged the rest of the show. 

Brienne called on Wednesday. 

“Hey,” she said, overly cheerful. “Thanks again for the bachelorette party, it was wonderful.” 

“You're welcome.” 

Brienne was quiet for a moment and then said, “why are you ignoring Cersei?”

“How do you know I'm ignoring Cersei?”

“Because she asked me if you were in town since she hadn't heard anything from you since Saturday.”

There had not been one personal message from Cersei since the note, and Margaery would definitely not count the note. “She could ask me that herself.”

“She might if you were responding to her other messages.” 

“Tell her I don't feel like doing work right now.” 

“That's not true.”

“It doesn't matter,” Margaery grumbled. “She doesn't care anyway.” 

“I don't think that's true, either,” Brienne said quietly. “What happened between you two?” Margaery burrowed under her blanket and remained quiet. “I'll just come to your house to get it out of you. Save me a trip, will you? I'm getting married in three days.”

“Fine,” she muttered. “We had sex again and she let me sleep over.” 

“That seems like a positive step.”

“She left me alone in her apartment the next morning! Told me to take a shower and get the hell out!”

“She did?”

“I mean not like that, but she definitely said I should shower.” Margaery didn't like how this was sounding in the retelling. 

“Well was the sex...good?”

“She let me use the strap-on on her,” Margaery admitted. 

There was quiet on the other end of the line, and she wondered if Brienne was imagining fucking Cersei, if she was jealous that Margaery had gotten to do something she hadn't. “Margaery, I love you, so please do not take this the wrong way, but you're being an idiot.”

This conversation suddenly felt uncomfortably familiar. “Wow I can't imagine how I would take that wrong.” 

“Cersei let you take control of the situation, let you have power over her that she hasn't given to anyone since Robert, and then afterward she let you sleep in her guest room-”

“Bed,” Margaery sighed. “In her bed. With her.” 

Brienne made a soft, brief exhalation of disbelief. “She let you do all of these terribly intimate things and then left you a note and you're convinced she was kicking you out of her life?”

“I hate it when you repeat things back to me in that tone.” 

“The rational one?” she asked dryly. 

“Why didn't she stay in the morning? Why didn't she say something in the note instead of 'sorry, gotta go, you can use my shower'? If she was so intimate, why didn't she show it?”

“But she did,” Brienne said softly. “She probably woke up and was terrified of it. Wouldn't it have been worse if she'd stayed and told you those things?” 

Margaery pictured Cersei sitting at her kitchen island, drinking coffee, and coolly asking her to shower and go. Yeah, that would have been a million times worse. 

“I don't know what to do here, Brie.” 

“You're in unfamiliar waters, Margaery. You know what they say on Tarth?”

“What?”

“'We must free ourselves of the hope that the sea will ever rest. We must learn to sail in high winds.'”

“Very sailor-y of you. Does Jaime know of your upbringing as a pirate child?”

Brienne chuckled. “Mock me all you want, you know I'm right.” 

“How do I sail in Cersei's high winds?”

“She's your storm, you'll have to figure it out yourself.” 

“That's extremely unhelpful.” Margaery breathed out slowly, a knot forming in her chest where her heart should be. “Is it worth it?” 

“You'll have to figure that out yourself, too,” Brienne said kindly. “But I think it is.”

“I love you, Brie.” 

“I love you, too. Go sail your storm, pirate!”

“Arrrrrrgh.” They were both laughing when Margaery hung up, but her heart was still as hard and painful as a stone in her chest.

**********

It was cowardly, but Margaery kept it strictly to work with Cersei for the days leading up to the rehearsal and dinner on Friday night. She tried to convince herself it was because she needed to be there for Brienne emotionally before the wedding, but Margaery could never fool herself. In the past she'd taken that as a point of pride, but now it was just inconvenient.

The work was smooth and Cersei continued to be genuinely great at marketing, riding the perfect line between sincere and manipulative to gain the most views, the most mentions, and ultimately the most potential customers. By the time Margaery was driving to Casterly Rock for the rehearsal, she was slightly less upset and slightly more nervously hopeful. 

Casterly Rock was a mansion at the top of a foreboding hill; the perfect castle from which Tywin Lannister could control his fortune and his children, though he'd not been as successful with the latter. As she pulled into the long circular driveway and parked in the designated area, Margaery wondered if Tywin funding and hosting the wedding was a ploy to grab some of that control back. 

She also wondered what he would say if Margaery told him she was in love with his daughter. 

The wedding planner, a sweet-faced young woman with a thick binder, greeted Margaery at the door. 

“The maid of honor!” she said, hugging Margaery before they'd even exchanged names. “Don't worry, I'm not stalking you, it's just Brienne gave me a photo for the book.” She tapped the binder and then held out her hand. “I'm Tysha.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Margaery said, shaking her hand. “So what's the plan for today?”

“We'll run through the whole ceremony, make sure everyone knows their responsibilities and timing, and then we'll do a walk-through of the reception afterward. Should take a few hours and then Mr. Lannister is having a rehearsal dinner for the wedding party and the families.” 

“Is Selwyn here?” Margaery had only met him once, but he'd been a lovable, bear of a man and she looked forward to talking with him more. 

“Not yet. He's coming straight from the ferry. Addam went to go get him. Come on in, you can set your things down, Brienne and Jaime are already here.” 

Tysha led Margaery through the echoing halls of the house out to the backyard, where it was a gorgeously sunny spring day. 

“The weather is supposed to hold through the weekend,” Tysha said, beaming happily at the perfectly manicured grounds. “It's going to be a beautiful wedding.” 

Brienne and Jaime were sitting on a porch swing, holding hands and staring out at the rows of white chairs already set up. When they saw her they both hurried over, and Margaery hugged both of them tightly. 

“Ready for tomorrow?” Margaery asked, and had to laugh when they looked at each other with matching expressions of exhaustion. 

“So ready,” Brienne said. “I wish we could just skip to Sunday.”

“And miss the wedding night?” Jaime asked, mock-offended. “That's the best part.” 

Brienne blushed and shook her head at Margaery. “Ignore him. I'm glad you're here, I wouldn't want to do this without you.” 

“I am the most important part,” Margaery said, laughing when Jaime glared at her. “You know what you're marrying into, Lannister. Suck it up.” 

“I never thought I would have to spend so much of my time with a Tyrell, but first my soon-to-be wife and now my sister, I'm doomed.” 

Margaery's heart stuttered in her chest. “Did Cersei say something to you?”

“Not exactly,” Jaime said. Both women were watching him intently and he looked nervous. “Did something happen?”

“No,” Margaery said.

“Yes,” Brienne countered. 

“Okay, well, Cersei's here so we could get her opinion, too,” he said, gesturing with his chin. 

Margaery took a deep breath and turned, and then exhaled loudly when Cersei emerged from the house dressed in designer blue jeans and a loose, burgundy silk shirt. She had gold rimmed sunglasses and her hair was pulled in a ponytail that made her look unusually comfortable. Cersei hesitated when she caught sight of the three of them, and then she pulled her shoulders back and strode their way. 

When she walked up, they were all quiet. “Jaime,” Cersei said, hugging him, and then Brienne. She turned to Margaery. “Hello.” 

“Hi.” They just stared at each other, inches away but not touching. Even now, anxious and aching as Margaery was, she wanted to drag Cersei back into the house and find an empty bedroom, rehearsal be damned. 

Tysha broke in, announcing Selwyn and Addam had arrived and Brienne nearly ran off to greet her father, Jaime hurrying after. 

“Are you well?” Cersei asked in the wake of their departure, her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses. 

“I'm fine. Should be a lovely wedding.” 

“It should.”

They stared around the grounds while Margaery wondered what it must have been like to grow up here. Her own family home had been enormous, but it had never felt so impersonal. “Living here must have been like living in a museum,” she mused aloud. 

Cersei glanced at her, the sun glinting off the gold of her frames. “It wasn't before my mother died,” she said softly. “But after, there was no room for the messiness of children.” 

“It sounds lonely.” 

“I had Jaime. For many years we were inseparable, until I married Robert.” 

“Did you love him?” 

“Once.” There were noises coming from the house and Cersei pulled her sunglasses up on her head and stared intently at Margaery. “A long time ago I thought love was just being attracted to someone, but I was a foolish girl.” 

Margaery blinked, words skittering out of her reach, and then Brienne and the others were back and Selwyn was enveloping her in his huge arms and Addam was introducing himself and Tysha was hovering, a deceptively forceful presence trying to keep everything on track. 

She pushed them relentlessly through the rehearsal, making them practice their steps, their timing, their words when needed. Margaery didn't have time to think, let alone pull Cersei aside and ask her what she meant by her last comment. Several hours later they were all flopped on various chairs in the garden and groaning unhappily as Tysha called it good enough. Tywin, who had disappeared halfway through to arrange the meal, returned and stared down at them in disappointment. 

“Tired already?” he asked, his voice thin and disbelieving. 

“Don't start,” Jaime muttered. “We would have just eloped if it weren't for you.” 

“Which is exactly why I stepped in. I won't have my son running off and getting married like he's hiding a secret.” 

“What about your other son?” Tyrion asked from where he was massaging his feet. “I thought that was exactly what you wanted me to do.” 

Tywin scoffed and turned on his heel. “Dinner is ready,” he said over his shoulder. 

Tysha gathered up her things. “I'll be on my way,” she said, and Margaery marveled how that gentle voice hid a will of absolute iron. 

Tyrion scrambled up from his chair. “You should stay,” he said, patting her hand. “There's plenty of food and we'd love to have you.” He looked around at the others hopefully. 

Brienne and Jaime exchanged a look and then Jaime grinned at him. “Yeah, sure, she can stay. But no more standing, my feet can't take it.” 

Tysha laughed gaily and then smiled when Tyrion took her binder and offered his arm to escort her in. “Such a gentleman,” she noted lightly and Tyrion looked embarrassed. Margaery and the others watched them start towards the house with matching looks of amusement. 

“When did that happen?” Margaery asked. 

“A week ago,” Jaime said. “He asked her to be his plus one at the wedding.” 

“Doesn't she have to be at the wedding anyway?”

“She does but he's gone completely stupid over her.” 

“That sounds familiar,” Cersei said wryly, and Jaime stuck his tongue out at her. 

“You've got the same genes as we do, sweet sister. Don't think you're immune to that part, too.” 

Cersei rolled her eyes and stood. “I'm the only one of us who is,” she said, heading towards the house. Maragaery sighed, wishing Cersei would have asked to escort _her_. 

“My lady?” Selwyn said, holding out his arm to her instead and smiling gently. Margaery went up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek and then let him lead her into the house while Addam, Jaime, and Brienne followed after. 

Tywin and Selwyn were at each end of the table for the meal, with Jaime, Brienne, Margaery, and Addam sat on one side and Tyrion, Tysha, and Cersei on the other. With Brienne mostly engaged with her father and Cersei on the opposite end of the table, Margaery spent much of the dinner talking to Addam. 

He was nice enough, rangy with dark copper hair pulled back in a man-bun. Margaery wasn't usually a fan of man-buns but he had such a nice face, with a confident smile and clear brown eyes, that he was pleasant to look at and pass the time with. It helped that every time she casually glanced at Cersei, she found the other woman was looking their way. 

They talked mostly of their interests, their work – Addam was vice president of a local tech company – and how they'd each met Brienne and Jaime. By the time dessert had rolled around, Margaery was at ease in his company, enjoying yet another story of him and Jaime getting into trouble in school while Jaime leaned over and denied every bad thing Addam said about him.

“That was Cersei!” Jaime protested. 

“No, she definitely was not the one set the fire in chem class. That was all you.” 

“She made it look like me! Cers, help me out here. Lay your guilty conscience bare finally.” 

Cersei raised a single eyebrow and took a sip of her wine. “I'm quite sure I don't recall.” 

Jaime groaned while Addam hooted with laughter. “You wound me, sister, you truly do.” 

Tywin and Selwyn had retired to another room to look at Tywin's collection of famous art, and Margaery leaned back to look around the table at everyone's smiling faces. Everyone but Cersei, who kept watching her, eating and drinking and steadily staring, until Margaery couldn't take it anymore. She stood up abruptly and asked after the bathroom, hurrying down the hall Brienne pointed to. 

When she emerged after splashing her cheeks with water and taking calming breaths, she nearly ran into Cersei waiting right outside the door. 

“It's all yours,” Margaery said, stepping aside, but Cersei didn't move, just kept watching her with those eyes as green as the deep leaves on the roses around her childhood home. 

“Brienne said you're mad.”

“Brienne talks too much,” Margaery muttered, though that had never been true. 

“But you are.”

“Yes, I am.” Margaery folded her arms over her chest and glared at Cersei. 

“Because of Sunday.”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

Margaery snorted in disbelief. “Why? Because I thought we'd have breakfast together but you didn't even hang around long enough to say goodbye.” 

“I never promised you anything,” Cersei said tightly. 

“I don't want promises,” Margaery snapped. “I want you. I just want you to stay.” 

“No you don't. You think you do, but-” Cersei exhaled, looked down the hall and far past it to something Margaery couldn't hope to see. 

“But what? I'm just a foolish girl?” 

“No one stays,” Cersei said, her voice cracking like the deep rumble of long-frozen ice starting to come apart. For the first time, Margaery could see all of the emotion Cersei kept so carefully hidden inside, the bleeding tsunami that she could never let slip because if she did it would never end. Margaery's heart ached, as sharp as though one of them had stuck a knife straight through. 

“I'll stay,” Margaery promised and the shutters that Cersei hid behind cracked open and the hurt and the hope shone through; she looked desperate to believe Margaery, a woman lost in the forest following a single light. 

Cersei's phone rang and they both jumped. She fumbled for it, and Margaery saw it was Robert. 

“Hello,” she said, breathlessly, her eyes on Margaery. “Yes, we're almost done. I'll leave now. All right. Goodbye.” 

When she hung up, she'd almost entirely hidden everything away again behind the cool, unconcerned facade, except for her eyes which were wide and sad. “Robert needs to bring the children back,” she said. “I need to go so I can be there for them.” 

“I'll go with you,” Margaery said hurriedly. “I'll follow you in my car.” They had been so close to something important; if Cersei walked away now, Margaery didn't think she'd ever get that close again. 

“No. I can do this by myself.” 

“You don't have to. Just let me be there for you,” Margaery pleaded. 

Cersei breathed one deep, shuddering breath and Margaery waited feeling as if they were standing at the edge of a precipice. 

“You mean well,” Cersei said. “Everyone always does. Everyone thinks staying is the easiest thing in the world. But I have to go home to my children. And after that I have to build a life that doesn't rely on the impossible. People don't stay, Margaery. And I can't-” she swallowed hard, blinking furiously with eyes that were shining with tears. “I can't,” she said softly. She kissed Margaery tenderly on the cheek and then pulled down her sunglasses and walked away, leaving Margaery alone in the empty halls of Casterly Rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's Tarth quote stolen in its entirely from Aristotle Onassis.


	11. Chapter 11

Saturday morning arrived in a downpour. Margaery stared out of her apartment window with tired, gritty eyes and watched it rain more than it had rained all winter. 

“Perfect,” she sighed, flopping back down on her bed. She pulled her phone over and texted Brienne. 

'Don't freak out but I think it might rain on your wedding day.'

'If you start singing that song I will murder you' came the swift response. Margaery's phone rang. 

“Isn't it ironic?” Margaery said in greeting, and Brienne sighed heavily over the line. 

“I hate you.” 

“It is kind of ironic. I mean your old ancestor sigil _is_ a sun.” 

“Is this some sort of misguided ploy to keep me from being upset? Because I'm not.” 

“Really?” Margaery asked curiously. “You've been looking forward to this for months. Not a lot of months, admittedly, but months nonetheless.” 

“We're still going to get married, that's all I care about. If we're drowning in rain while it happens, that's fine with us.” 

“You two are gross,” Margaery complained. “Can't you ever be unhappy? It's a real burden on everybody else.” 

“I know last night was hard-”

“Forget it,” Margaery said, feeling guilty. Even if it was raining, it was still Brienne's day and she'd already spent much of last night after the dinner trying to cheer Margaery up, when she should have been spending time with Jaime and her father. “So do we still go to Casterly?” She could hear Brienne chewing her lip, knew her friend was trying to decide whether to go with Margaery's tactic of just ignoring all things Cersei-related. “Because if not,” she added, trying to convince her, “I'm sure grandmother would be positively gleeful to hold it at Highgarden Home. She would love to show-up Tywin and put on a wedding in just a few hours.” 

Brienne laughed a little. “Tempting as that is, we're sticking to the plan. The weather app says it's supposed to clear up later anyway and worst case we'll just move everything inside. There's plenty of room to have the ceremony in the reception ballroom.” 

“It's your wedding. Has Jaime left yet?”

“Yes, Tyrion came by early to grab him and my dad and keep us separate until the ceremony. He said the next time he sees me, we'll be married. It's kind of sweet.” 

“It's disgustingly sweet,” she said, not bothering to correct her that they still wouldn't technically be married unless Jaime was going to blindfold himself until the septon pronounced them husband and wife. “Then you know what that means?”

“Wedding day pancakes?”

“Wedding day pancakes.”

**********

“You know,” Margaery said around a mouthful of pancakes, “you're probably one of the few brides calm enough to eat an entire plate of pancakes on the morning of her wedding.”

“Why would I be nervous?” 

“The usual stuff.” She gestured vaguely with her fork. “All those people there to watch you saying your vows. The dancing afterward. Making sure you didn't forget something or someone important.” 

Brienne's eyes had gone big and blue. “Well I wasn't worried before.” 

“Ignore me. I'm just grumpy.” 

They ate the last of the pancakes and Brienne set her plate aside. “Are you going to be okay?”

Margaery shrugged. “I'll be fine for today. After that is my worry, not yours.” 

“You're my best friend, of course it's my worry.” 

“It shouldn't be. It's not like we were ever actually even a couple.” 

“You still have feelings for her, though. It's okay to be upset.” 

“I'll be fine,” Margaery said more forcefully, putting as much weight of truth behind it as she could. “So is Missandei meeting us there with the dress?” 

“Yes.” Brienne checked her watch and leapt up from the couch. “Shoot, in not that long, either. We should get going.” She took the plates into the kitchen and then paused in the doorway on her way back, looking around. “I am really getting married today,” she said, pressing her hand to her chest, her pale cheeks flushed with excitement and nerves. 

Margaery smiled and walked to her friend, taking her hand. “You are. It's going to be everything you deserve.”

Brienne sniffed and Margaery waved her free hand in-between them. “Oh gods, don't cry already! I'm barely holding it together as it is.” 

“It's your fault!” Brienne said, half-laughing and half-crying. She tugged Margaery closer and enveloped her in the patented Tarth bearhug. “Thank you for being there for me every time I needed you,” she said in a choked voice. 

Margaery felt tears slip down her cheeks and she tightened her arms around Brienne. “I always wanted a sister,” she said shakily. “If I could have made one for myself, she would have been you.” 

They cried in each other's arms for another minute and then Margaery took a deep breath and pulled away. “That's enough,” she said in a voice that only hitched a little. “No more tears until the ceremony at least.” 

“Deal,” Brienne said, wiping her hands across her eyes. “Do you think Jaime will cry?”

Margaery laughed loudly. “Are you kidding me? He's going to cry more than any of us. He's gonna cry the second he sees you appear in the doorway. I'll bet you a million dragons.” 

“I'm not going to take a sucker's bet.”

**********

Margaery would have lost that bet, but only because Jaime was already surreptitiously wiping away tears when Margaery appeared and started her slow walk down the aisle with Tyrion. Addam and Cersei had walked out just before them, and Margaery had spent the long minutes waiting in the line for cues staring helplessly at Cersei's rigid back.

They'd arrived at Casterly just as Missandei had, and so Margaery and Brienne had been whisked off to the dressing room without even getting to look around at everyone else bustling and preparing for the wedding, Tysha overseeing everything like a doe-eyed general. Brienne had asked that it only be her and Margaery together for the preparations, a late request Margaery was touched by because she knew Cersei had previously been invited to everything. Tysha roped Cersei into helping organize the catering instead while she hurried away to dry off the hundreds of chairs. 

The sun had broken out in time and now the world looked like it was covered in diamonds where the sunlight hit the drops of rain. Somehow even rain had made their wedding more beautiful. Margaery had to believe that was a good sign for her friend's future. 

Standing in line behind Cersei was the first time they had seen each other since the night before, and Cersei studiously kept her head turned away from Margaery, even as Margaery stared desperately at her, silently begging her to just look her way. She had to know if Cersei had truly given in to her fears, if there were even the smallest spark of that flickering possibility from before Robert had called. But she didn't get a chance to see, because the music kicked in and the walk down the aisle was on. 

Even as Margaery and Tyrion neared their positions, Cersei steadfastly refused to look at her, looking out at the crowd, over Margaery's shoulder from where they'd come, at Jaime's beaming, bright-eyed face, anywhere but at Margaery. She moved into position next to Cersei and when their arms accidentally brushed each other Cersei pulled back quickly. 

Margaery's heart thudded heavy and painful in her chest, and she stared down at the ground unseeing, until the music paused and a hush fell over the crowd. The Stark family quartet were dressed to the nines today, though Jon still looked as gloomy as ever hunched over his viola. They picked up a new song, a simple, lovely tune, and the crowd as one turned toward the doorway. 

Brienne appeared on her father's arm and Margaery heard Jaime suck in his breath and gasp out, “my gods” when she did. Margaery glanced at him and was almost set to crying herself at the light that seemed to have refracted off of the raindrops to shimmer through his face. It was almost too much to watch him looking at Brienne, at the tears sliding down his cheeks unnoticed, at the soft awe that had completely suffused him. He was, she thought, the purest personification of love that she had ever seen, a golden, glowing beacon that called Brienne to his side. 

For her part, Brienne seemed to reflect every bit of Jaime's emotions, a perfect mirror of joy to the man who would so soon be bound to her. Missandei had kept the dress a light, gentle blue, just enough color to make the paleness of her skin luminous, to contrast the deep, stunning blue of her eyes even further. Margaery of course had applied the makeup herself, using a light touch that didn't try to hide any of the truth of Brienne's features, but instead showcase them – red to make her full lips look fuller, dark eyeliner to highlight her eyes, no blush so her freckles stood out clearly. She looked exactly as she always did, crooked nose and big teeth and straw-colored hair swept up in a loose bun, but even more herself, and as beautiful as Margaery had ever seen her as she walked down the aisle with a wide, open-mouthed smile. 

By the end of the ceremony there were few dry eyes that Margaery could see in the front rows. Tywin, of course, was stoic and though Olenna wasn't teary-eyed, she at least looked moved. Margaery allowed herself a glance at Cersei as Jaime and Brienne headed back down the aisle with their hands bound together, found her watching them go with a swirling mix of love and sadness. She met Margaery's gaze for a moment and it all seemed to combust inside her, her green eyes a bonfire of all the things she wanted that she insisted on denying herself, before she hurriedly looked away again, leaving Margaery breathless. 

It was that look that had Margaery seeking her out after the endless photos and the delicious meal and Brienne and Jaime's tender first dance. They invited everyone out onto the floor with them, Brienne looking relieved that the part she'd most dreaded was over, and Margaery headed immediately for Cersei, cutting off Addam as he tried to ask her to dance. 

“I think you should dance with Tyrion,” Margaery said lightly. “Change up the gender expectations! Live a little!” She shoved him mostly playfully, though he stumbled back an extra step with the force of it, his brows furrowed. 

“Uh, ok,” he said, turning to look for Tyrion, who was, unsurprisingly, mooning over Tysha as she whispered intensely to the catering staff. 

Cersei remained seated at the bridal party table, drinking her wine and watching Margaery. 

“Dance with me,” Margaery said, too wired to be less direct. 

“You don't have to do this.” 

“I want to.” 

Cersei frowned and looked away. “I should keep an eye on my children. Seven knows what Tommen will be up to with just Robert watching them.” 

Margaery looked where Robert was sitting at the table with Renly, Loras, and the three children. They all looked happy and not interested in causing any undue trouble. 

“You're afraid,” Margaery said and Cersei laughed darkly. 

“You should be more afraid.” 

“Why? What's the point?”

Cersei shook her head and took another drink of her wine. “You have so little to lose,” she said softly. “And I have so much.” 

For the first time since the car ride with Jaime weeks ago, Margaery felt genuinely, burningly angry. She leaned down and put her palms flat on the table, glaring at Cersei. “Your heart isn't worth more than mine just because it's been broken before. You are elegant and smart and a good mother and fucking amazing in bed, but whatever you stand to lose isn't somehow inherently more valuable. You're scared and you're weak and you hate yourself for that, I can see it.” And she could, the truth of it was plain on her face as Jaime's love had been on his an hour before. “You want this, but you won't let yourself have it because it might hurt again. It might hurt me, too, did you ever consider that? You're more likely to break my heart than the reverse. You already have,” she whispered fiercely, and then brushed away a stray tear. “Fuck.” She stood, blinking up at the fairy lights that glimmered like stars all over the ceiling, blurry through her unshed tears. “I have to stop this,” Margaery said, and when she chanced one last look at Cersei, the other woman couldn't even met her eyes. “Goodbye, Cersei.” 

Margaery huddled on the toilet of the nearest bathroom for the next ten minutes and let it all wash away, until she felt quiet and numb inside. She carefully reapplied her make-up, put on a smile for her friends, and emerged just as they were getting ready to cut the cake. 

“I'd like to make a toast,” Margaery said to Tysha, who nodded and leapt into action, bringing a glass and a spoon for Margaery to chime together. She did and the room quieted down and gave her their attention. She couldn't see Cersei anywhere. 

“I was too hungry earlier to make a proper toast before dinner,” she said and there were scattered chuckles through the crowd, “but I can't let this day end without telling these two how much they mean to me.” She saw Brienne clasp her hands together and bring them to her chest, a soft, happy smile on her face. Jaime had his arm around her waist and was beaming at Margaery. “The fact that they met at all, let alone are here today, a pair so obviously made for each other, has to be a sign that some people are just fated to be together. Jaime, you are one lucky bastard you know that, right?” He laughed and nodded vigorously, leaning over to kiss Brienne on the cheek. “You do know it, though; I see it every time you two are together. You love so fully, and I'm so happy that Brienne gets to be the recipient of that love. I'm glad you turned me down the first time we met.” There was more laughter, and Jaime and Brienne both were blushing, which made Margaery grin. “Brie, we already had our moment earlier, so to you I'll just say I love you and I would wish you only good things in your life, except I know that now that you have Jaime to stand beside you, even the bad things won't be so bad.” She saw them grip each other's hands tightly, giving each other strength the way she knew they would for the rest of their lives. “My grandmother doesn't believe in happily ever afters-”

“I don't!” she shouted from a nearby table, sending the crowd into a raucous bout of laughter. 

“I don't either,” Margaery said once things had quieted down again. “But I believe in love ever after. I believe that the people who take a chance on it are the bravest people I know. And I believe that Brienne and Jaime will continue to take that chance, to find courage in each other's love, for the rest of their lives. May we all be so lucky.” She lifted her glass to the couple. “I love you both. Congratulations.” 

The crowd raised their glasses and shouted congratulations and Brienne rushed over and hugged her, and then Jaime picked her up and swung her around before Tysha hurried them back to the cake. She returned to Margaery's side a minute later, though, and squeezed her arm. “That was beautiful,” she said, smiling, though not at Margaery but at Tyrion, who stood watching them with hope in his eyes. “And inspiring.” Tysha set the binder down and hurried to Tyrion's side. 

“All's well that ends well, I guess,” Margaery murmured, gulping down her champagne. 

She spent the rest of the evening dancing with her friends, dragging Olenna onto the floor to show off some moves, being twirled in Selwyn's fatherly arms, and even a dance with her brother where he paused to kiss her on the cheek and whisper, “You are spectacular and I love you and I'm here for you any time, okay?” that had her tearing up again. Even Lysa-from-two-cubicles-over seemed to have dropped her lemon-zest smirk for the festivities and was twirling happily around the floor with Jaime's cousin Lancel.

Eventually the attendees saw Jaime and Brienne off in a carriage led by four pure white horses, waving and throwing daisies after them. 

“A little much,” Olenna sniffed, but Tywin just rolled his eyes while Selwyn cried big, happy tears on her other side. 

Then everyone else started to leave as well. Margaery had not seen Cersei since she'd stormed off from the table, but she did see Robert ushering the kids out the door and assumed he was moving them to their mother, wherever she had hidden herself. Everyone seemed to have someone to leave with, even Tysha and Tyrion who wandered out into the gardens lit with sparkling globes of light, talking animatedly. 

In the empty reception hall, Margaery sat down at one of the tables and ate someone's untouched pear and goat cheese appetizer, taking in the mess that Tywin's multiple housecleaners would have to tidy. 

“The Mother be with you,” she murmured, hoisting her appetizer in the air in salute. Someone cleared their throat in the doorway and Margaery turned in her seat to find Cersei standing there. 

“Did you forget your purse?” Margaery asked, turning away again to stare out at the dance floor. They had left the red, blue, and yellow swirling lights on, and there was soft classical music filtering in over the house speakers. 

“I heard your toast earlier. It made me think about my children,” Cersei said as she walked into the room. She stopped across the table from Margaery, picked up one of the pale blue flowers that had fallen out of the centerpiece and tucked it neatly back in. 

“Uh. Okay?” Margaery said, mesmerized by the balletic movement of Cersei's hands in spite of herself. 

“They won't stay either.” 

“Well, no, of course not. That's life.” Margaery wished she had something to drink, somewhere to look instead of Cersei's long fingers, instead of the line of her neck, instead of the firm, determined set of her lips. 

“Exactly. That's life. Yet people still have children. They still try to be happy, knowing what might happen.” 

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying,” Cersei paused and took a deep breath. “That I watched my brother get married today to the woman he loves more than anything in this world. He wants to have children with that woman, too. Children who will leave them as much as mine will leave me. Jaime would be devastated if something happened to Brienne, but he doesn't care. He just wants to have her as long as he can, because he thinks the risk of what losing it would do to him is worth it.”

Margaery's heart was pounding, an avalanche rumbling in her heart, but she stayed quiet. If this was going to happen, it had to be Cersei who built the last part of this bridge. She couldn't shoulder all the work on her own. 

“And if Jaime can do that, then so can I,” Cersei said, and Margaery finally, finally dared to look into her eyes, was consumed by the fierceness of Cersei's aching need, of the deep well of all the things she had wanted for so long now brought to the surface, and Margaery's heart gave way, the feelings she had been so badly holding back spreading through her body until she could barely sit still. 

“Sibling rivalry, huh?” Margaery laughed as she stood. 

“Lannisters can be very stupid about love sometimes,” Cersei said and her lips turned upward, shy and hopeful, the girl she must have once been waking up and peering out. 

“I'll take it,” Margaery said, coming around the table. “You're sure about this? You're not going to wake up tomorrow and decide it's too much?” 

“I might, but I'll be brave. Perhaps even as brave as you,” Cersei said softly, and Margaery cupped her cheeks with trembling hands. 

“I'm scared, too,” Margaery admitted. “I've barely even had a lasting relationship before and you've been married. And you have kids.”

“You're not backing out now, are you? After all this?”

“No,” Margaery said on a smile. “Just trying to prepare you for all the ways I'm going to mess this up. I'll be much worse at it than you.”

“I suspect we'll have to fight each other for the honor of that title.”

Margaery laughed and kissed Cersei brief but hard. “Do you need to get to the children tonight? Do you want me to come with you?”

“I do want you to come with me, but Robert is watching the children.” 

“Does he know why?”

“He's the one who offered to take them. Don't give him too much credit, though, I think Loras had something to do with it.”

Margaery shut her eyes and sent her brother a brief, silent projection of gratitude. “Your place, then? Or mine?” Margaery asked, taking all of Cersei in with eager eyes, tucking away the sheer, untamed happiness on her face for the times when things would be hard. 

“My bed is more comfortable, and I can make you an amazing omelette in the morning. Then I can show you around our neighborhood until the children come home. After that, perhaps, the park, if you're not busy.” 

Margaery pictured it: waking up with Cersei nestled against her side, a languid makeout session in the morning sunlight, an unhurried fuck in the shower, and then breakfast and holding hands and carrying Tommen to the park while she and Joffrey talked about music and Myrcella danced holding onto her mother's free hand. Evenings sitting quiet at the island working next to but separately from each other. Days together dealing with the banalities of life. Nights of passion and promise. 

“I think I'd like that,” Margaery said, and Cersei covered Margaery's hands with her own and smiled. “But maybe dance with me first? I really wanted to dance with you tonight.” 

Cersei nodded and they wrapped their arms around each other, Margaery's head tucked into Cersei's neck while the colors played all around them, lighting their way.

**********

**Two Weeks Later**

Jaime and Brienne returned from their honeymoon in time for their first brunch as a married couple the next day. Margaery waited eagerly for her friend to arrive, excited to hear all about their trip and to share what she'd been up to as well. They'd exchanged a few brief texts while Brienne was away just to share the good news on Margaery's part and pictures on Brienne's, but Margaery had mostly left her friend alone to enjoy the wildly expensive and probably very sex-filled time away.

She and Cersei had had brunch with Loras and Renly and the kids last weekend, which had been only a minor disaster when Tommen refused to eat anything except plain white bread and Myrcella had spilled her melted sorbet all over her new dress. Margaery already adored the children, but she had to admit it was nice to have a grown-up brunch this week without having to worry whether Joffrey would ignore his sister so effectively that she'd start screaming to get his attention, and Tommen would interrupt her for a third time to use the bathroom. 

The time she'd spent with Cersei for the last two weeks, even with the disruptions of the children, had been as wild a storm as Brienne's pirate sayings predicted, but Margaery was sailing it confidently now, able to be patient when Cersei pulled away, to be open when Cersei returned, apologetic. Things were not easy, but they were easier, and got a little better every day. 

Margaery spotted Brienne's head first, and waved wildly at her friend, who waved equally enthusiastically back. They met in the middle of the outdoor seating area and hugged each other hard. 

“Welcome back,” Margaery said into Brienne's shoulder.

“It's good to see you,” Brienne said into her hair. 

They pulled away and grinned at each other, smiles full of the stories they both desperately wanted to share. 

“Come on, you should meet my girlfriend,” Margaery said lightly, and Brienne laughed, squeezing her hand. 

“Have you met my husband?” Brienne said, pointing at Jaime who grinned so goofily Margaery was reminded of a golden retriever being told he was a good boy. 

“He looks familiar,” she said, giving him a swift hug. “Welcome back to you, too.” 

“Hey can I talk to you for a second?” Jaime asked, glancing between her and Brienne. She nodded and Brienne went ahead of them to the table, where Margaery could already hear Loras and Renly loudly welcoming her. 

“Are you going to threaten me to not to hurt your sister like I did with you and Brienne?”

Jaime laughed softly and shook his head. “I assumed you already knew that was a condition. No, I just wanted to tell you...” he hesitated and Margaery marveled at how his and Cersei's eyes looked so similar and so different at the same time. “Thank you, I guess.”

“Thank you?”

“For seeing all the things Cersei was always trying to hide. For knowing she was so...her and loving her anyway.” 

“Loving her because of it,” Margaery said and Jaime's teeth flashed white in the sun. 

“Yeah and especially for that. I worried she'd never find someone who would be both patient and impatient enough to do what you've done. So, thank you.”

“You're pretty okay, Jaime Lannister.”

“So are you, Margaery Tyrell.”

They grinned at each other and Margaery linked her arm through his to walk with him to the table. There were more hugs: Tyrion leaping up first to get to his brother, then Tysha, and then Cersei. Margaery noticed Jaime whispered something to her and she smiled a little and glanced slyly at Margaery. 

They eight of them took their seats again, Margaery in-between Brienne and Cersei, and as the morning sun warmed them they lingered over a long brunch, talking and laughing. Cersei held her hand through much of it, gently rubbing her thumb over Margaery's without even seeming to notice. It was domestic and calm and Margaery wished she could somehow store this moment in a bottle for the rest of her life; hoped she wouldn't need to because there would be even more moments like this, more moments like the week before when Tommen had fallen asleep warm and snuggled in her arms, more moments like last night when Cersei had been shaking apart under her and whispering, “I love you.” And at the end of the meal when Loras and Brienne both hungrily eyed the last of the cinnamon roll Margaery was too full to finish, she gave it all to Brienne with a beaming smile. 

This had, after all, been Brienne's doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o we did it again, team! Thank you for your patience waiting for the middle sections that took me so long to write, thank you an extreme amount for the encouraging comments throughout - you all are genuinely why this fic got written and completed in the first place. You could say that this series is all your fault. <3 I never in a million years thought I would write a Margaery/Cersei fic but here we are! And I really enjoyed it, in large part because y'all shared your enjoyment with me. So: thank you.


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